


The Mask Project

by Julieann



Series: Masters of Illusion [1]
Category: M.A.S.K.
Genre: Adventure, Drama, Gen, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-11
Updated: 2009-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julieann/pseuds/Julieann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Trakker must deal with the tragic results of an attempt by Miles Mayhem to steal new technology from one of his research companies. Miles finds his life not going as planned, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Serpent Appears

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a 're-imagining' of the M.A.S.K. universe, with a lot of the silly stuff taken out, serious stuff added in, new characters, and a reworking of the abilities of some of the Masks (there will be no throwing totems). As such, there will be differences from what is seen in the animation, even though the animation was the inspiration. Enjoy!

Emily Trakker strangled the handle of her briefcase as the conversation over the breakfast that morning ran through her mind again. No one on the road would have been safe with her behind the wheel, and the fact she started the day in a bad mood only served to put her into even a worse one. Just as well her personal car sat at the garage waiting to be repaired and she’d resorted to using the family limousine.

The limousine came to a halt in front of the ISF Research International building. She launched out of the door before the driver could even open his door on his way back to open hers. Ignoring the receptionist’s cheery greeting, she headed for the first of several security protocols to reach her office. She dropped the cartoon lunch cooler her son had given to her as a birthday present next to the couch and slammed the briefcase on the top of her desk.

“Rough morning?”

Emily looked up and glared at the gray haired man grinning at her, leaning relaxed against the door frame with a steaming cup of coffee held in one hand. She sat down hard in her chair, “Not in the mood this morning.”

“Told you having a kid would be a problem.”

“Scott is not a problem, Morton. Don’t you have an intern to drive crazy today?” Emily said, not even bothering to hide her animosity to a man who’d been a thorn in her side since the moment she’d started on the project.

Degree or not, as far as she was concerned Morton Sanders stood as a failure to his profession and the company he worked for. The only reason she could see that he survived was the raw talents of the poor interns he lorded over while taking credit for their hard work.

Considering his name had been one of those brought up in that morning’s argument didn’t help, either, “You don’t need to work now! It’s not as if we need the money. Then you wouldn’t need to put up with Morton or any of the other supervisors!”

Morton gave her a cheeky grin completely at odds with his gray-haired wise-man appearance that he’d carefully constructed, “Come to think of it, I do. Have fun explaining to the board why the software is late.”

Once Morton left the doorway Emily walked over and shut it. Only then did she allow herself one evil smile. Not finished? Not by half. The system she’d put together would blow the socks off any of the other groups efforts. And all by using bypassed and abandoned projects which she and Dylan had figured out how to make work together in a new modular coding framework.

As if on cue, there was a small knock on the door. A moment later the door opened, and Dylan moved his wheelchair inside. Closing the door he stopped in front of her desk, folding his arms. “Want to talk about it?”

“About what? Morton giving you a bad time?”

Dylan snorted and adjusted his glasses, “I can handle the Morton’s of the world. Anyone with half a brain can program circles around the moron. I meant you, and the foul temper you came to work with.”

“Cindy tipping you off again?”

Dylan grinned at the name and shrugged, giving Emily no doubt about whom his spy had been. “Anyone who has seen you today knows about it. Besides, you have that little line on your forehead, between your eyes…”

Emily vigorously rubbed at the spot, finding that she had indeed been scowling.

“So, not Morton, too early in the morning. Must have been with someone else before you arrived.” Dylan surmised with a sigh.

“All because I wouldn’t take the day off to join him for a business meeting. I work! He knows that! He knew it when we met, he knew it when we married! I like my work!” Emily started, the words starting to tumble out in short bursts, unable to stop them. “If I took the day off it would be to spend extra time with him and Scott! Not because an oversees businessmen decided to suddenly fly across the ocean with no notice and Matt decides he absolutely has to meet them!”

“Again.”

“Yes, again.” Emily sat back in her chair and rubbed at her forehead again, working to regain control of her temper. “Yes, I know what you’re about to say. It’s time for changes, for both of us.”

“So long as they are positive changes.” Dylan said with a friendly smile. “Do you think he’ll go for it?”

“I don’t like Scott growing up in the city. Considering I’m willing to quit working here if we move, I think he’ll do it. And it might help Matt, too. We both need to get away from our past lives and develop one together in a different place. Where better than the old family home?”

“You mean a mansion. Geez, I’ve never seen a place that big before and all I’ve seen are the pictures.” Emily smiled at Dylan rolling his eyes. Then his expression turned serious, “Think you’ll be happy there? Not working?”

“Hey, who said I wouldn’t be working? There is more to life than this building. I’m taking one of the rooms for a personal office and computer lab. It isn’t as if there isn't plenty to choose from. You won't stop working when you leave here.”

“Shh, don’t say that out loud. Someone might hear!”

Emily grinned and teased, “The Owner and CEO of the next big independent software company, that’s who is in my office.”

Dylan shrugged while a tint of color flashed across his cheeks, “And I’ll have the loan paid back to you within a year. Which reminds me, I need to sign papers on the property during lunch. By the way, I finished the final voice protocols. You can run another compile now and see how it works in simulation.”

“Thanks for coming in early and finishing it. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. You know me, I live to code!”

Emily chuckled, a small portion of her good humor coming back, “Not for long if Cindy has anything to do with it.”

Dylan blushed, “Yeah, well, she’s coming with me.”

Emily stopped in mid-motion while making coffee. “Today, or in general?”

“Both. When I leave, she’s coming with me.” Dylan said a little sheepishly. He then shrugged, “What can I say, she loves me for my mind!”

For a moment Emily felt the rush of love and excitement she’ felt when courting Matt. If only they could get back to that. Emily smiled at Dylan, “Good luck, to the both of you. I’m happy this happened for you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Morton is having a devil of a time with the charging tech. All his specially chosen interns and he still can’t get anywhere.” With a wave, Dylan left, leaving Emily with a depressingly silent office.

The comment about Morton made her smile, though. Unless he found a genius of an intern to take ideas from, there wouldn’t be any new charging technology for the augment masks. Meanwhile, her part would be ready, despite the initial project setbacks.

Determined to make something of the day, Emily immediately turned to the project in front of her. As she started a new simulation, she made herself one promise to sit down with Matt for a long discussion that night, before becoming engrossed in the coding and forgetting all else.

***

“She should be here.” Matt muttered, playing with the crystal water glass as he looked around the expensively decorated restaurant.

“I understand the project is almost over.” Bruce offered

“It can’t be too soon. The project has gone on for too long. I know the technology has a lot of potential, but I’m seriously considering pulling out of the partnership and perhaps funding a few of the projects myself with better oversight. Bedlow’s idea of science is a joke. The funding should be going to the scientists, not managers.” Matt scowled, “You should hear some of the tales coming out of the manager meetings.”

“Fish must swim, birds must fly.” Bruce said, taking a sip of a steaming cup of tea.

“Trying to tell me something?”

Bruce sat back in the chair and smiled serenely, “Like what?”

Matt let out a long pent out breath. “Fine, so working on code is in her blood. Why not start her own business? She has the raw talent for it.” Matt suddenly frowned, “Unless she’s planning to. Maybe that’s what the funds were for.”

“Emily is full of surprises, much like business itself, hey Matt?” Bruce said with a twinkle in his eye as two rumpled business men reappeared after making a furious run for the bathrooms.

“Yet another reason to not eat meals served on commercial airplanes.” Matt said, as he stood up for the men’s arrival, bowing at the two aged Japanese men as they rejoined the table.

“Most sorry, Mr. Trakker.” The younger one said with yet another bow before taking his seat again, “You were explaining the shipping percentages?”

***

Miles Mayhem scowled at Tony Hunt and gestured after the three vehicles leaving the secure yard of the farmhouse Miles used as one of his bases of operation. "These are your idea of good recruits?"

"You needed more men for the project, and these people are good. These guys rule their area. You saw how they held their weapons," Tony said with his typical nonchalant shrug.

"Yes, and I also saw their eyes. I didn't survive so many battles by not being able to read character," Miles huffed. Yes, the men had listened carefully to their plan and run through the preliminary practice runs smoothly. But, his gut told him to watch his back. And he had learned the hard way in the past to trust his instincts.

"It's too late to do anything now. Unless you want to push back the entire operation." Tony zipped up his black jacket and stuffed a knit face mask in his pocket.

Miles frowned fiercely, "No, we cannot delay. We must hit now before some of the experiments are sent to other locations."  
She instructed one of the cranes to break down, and then watched as the computer compensated while simultaneously running through trouble-shooting options.

The new module system seemed to be working great in bringing everything together in a smooth and efficient manner. And after she left the project, it wouldn’t be difficult for others to program new logic modules for other purposes. Once she set up her home office, she might even write a few herself.

The computer balked in its problem solving and Emily gave a half-hearted sight. Okay, so maybe the fuzzy-logic modules needed a little more work. The system needed to be able to help in the deployment of the Masks, if the project were to work correctly. Plus interface with voice, and make quick decisions based on changing conditions especially in the mining and construction industries. She would leave any police force or military programming to someone else. She preferred not to think of that particular application for the Mask technology, as it could so easily be used by the wrong people.

Maybe she should take advantage of Dylan for the tweaks before he left the company.

As the simulation ended Emily allowed herself to smile. She looked forward to the day that she could see the technology be used in person, if the recharging mechanism could be solved. As it stood now, all prototypes were required to be hard-wired into a power source if used more than once, severely limiting their large-scale independent deployment. Unfortunately, all the Masks were proving to be rather power-hungry.

In any case, after today it would be Morton explaining his lack of progress to the board, not her.

“…it’ll take forever to get home now. Who knows how long it’ll take to put that kind of fire out,” someone said as they walked down the hallway by her open door.

She looked up, but not in time to see who had been speaking. Taking a break from the computer monitor, she stretched her arms up and swiveled her chair around to look out the window. A billowing dark cloud rose in the distance, slowly mushrooming at the top. Standing up, she walked closer to the window, but still couldn’t see much detail. Turning on the radio, she quickly discovered the source of the smoke. A fuel tank at a fuel depot somehow caught fire and was raging out of control.

As she sat back down in her chair, a dark helicopter flew past the building and then banked out of sight. The next moment the lights blinked. Emily looked up and eyed them suspiciously. She knew the emergency generator would keep power supplied to all the computer mainframes, but she still didn’t like the uncertainty. Closing down the simulation program and then her computer, she left her office to go into the mainframe room that sat on the same floor.

As she entered the room the main lights went out. Red emergency lights flickered on giving the room an ominous glow. In response to the outage, all the doors into the room slammed shut and locked. Emily rolled her eyes at the security response as she settled herself in front of one of the terminals.

A quick check showed all of the recent changes had been properly recorded. Some of the secondary mainframes behind her began cycling down in response to the diminished power supply. Emily looked up at the clock as the seconds continued to tick by, wondering how long the outage would last.

Just as she was about to call security to ask to be let out, the doors suddenly popped open. Emily stood up, grabbing her clipboard when a short emergency siren sounded, to be immediately silenced.

When no one entered the room Emily felt a chill go down her spine. The only sound she could hear were the mainframes behind her. Something didn’t feel right.

Emily sat back down quickly at the terminal and eyed it. Okay, so she would probably get in trouble for this later. As Matt had been so insistent to point out that morning, it’s not as if she needed to have a job.

Leaning forward she began working. In a few moments she’d breached the building security systems. Or rather, what remained operating. Most of the systems had shut themselves down, refusing to cooperate no matter what codes she fed into the computer. Unfortunately, she didn't have the highest levels of access, but there were workarounds. Emily focused on the individual micro-systems. When the feeds from several of the still-operating security camera's finally displayed, she froze. Then her heart began beating at a furious pace.

The next second she initiated an emergency line of code into the mainframe system. In response every mainframe came to life, dimming the secondary emergency lights. Emily ran to one nondescript mainframe on the far wall, yanking the cover open and tearing out an oblong cylinder, hoping it was working like it should.

As she rushed out of one of the doors towards her office, she hoped the testing had gone well for the new backup system as very soon that would be all that would be left. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. She stopped in the middle of the office, looking for a place to hide it.

The sound of voices coming from down the hall signaled the end of her time. The echoing report of gunfire and a scream quickly followed. As the voices and gunfire proceeded down the hall, she acted instead of thought.

They were going through the offices one by one. Emily’s mind shut down, trying to ignore the shouts and scream, working hard not to connect the voices to the people she’d worked with for so many years. She couldn’t stay in here.

A shout came from the direction of the mainframe room, with heavy footsteps quickly heading towards it. With her burden safely hidden she ran towards the back of the building as another voice yelled out. She heard an explosion of gunfire from somewhere behind her. The next second she realized she was looking at the pattern of the flooring close-up.

Even though her body felt numb, the part of her mind still rational knew she had been hit and hit badly. Her body didn’t want to respond.

Then the pain hit.

Oh yes, it was bad. Very, very bad, she thought to herself. Closing her eyes she struggled to breath.

"It's just another scientist," a rough male voice said from above her as she felt something hit her ankle. Emily kept her eyes shut and stayed as still as possible.

"A scientist that could have helped us with the mainframes! Don't you imbeciles know how to do anything right?" a familiar voice said from further down the hall.

"Watch it, Mayhem. Our boss told us to work with you, not to take orders from you. Any witness is dead," the rough voice said, fading as he walked away.

"I'll need to have a serious talk with your 'Boss'.” Miles Mayhem growled. “At least we can still get at the prototypes."

Emily could picture him in his mind, standing upright with a tight military bearing, making up for his short stature with the force of his will. Emily chanced cracking open her eyes. With relief, she found the hall empty.

The scene wavered as she tried to push herself upright, having to bite her lip to keep from screaming as the pain rippled through her body. As she dragged herself down the remainder of the hallway she grasped at any thought that flitted through her head, desperate for anything that could blunt the pain. The one that gave her the greatest pleasure was knowing that the likes of Miles Mayhem, as good as he might be in design, would never be able to recover anything from the mainframes. They would be permanently erased by now, the emergency magnets having wiped everything from the magnetic media.

Who had he been working with? Mayhem loved working alone, as the top dog of his personal gang. He'd been known for that since the beginning of the war, a fact that put him in direct conflict with many others in the military. Most of his civilian attempts had been doomed to failure by the same trait, thus not allowing him to rebuild the family fortune he’d started out with.

Then it made sense. Past rumors of black-market dealings Miles Mayhem during his time in the military and after. It had been listed among the charges at his court-martial. And the masks. Emily’s heart sank. The technology would be worth a fortune on the black-market. Just the sort of thing Mayhem would love to get his hands on.

After what seemed an eternity Emily reached the rear elevator. The door swung open, even though a lighted scrolling sign in the back of it read, "Do not use-Main Building power is out". Pulling herself in she closed the door, doing her best to ignore the trail of blood she’d left behind her. Propping herself up against the wall under the control panel, she pulled open the compartment just below the buttons. She reached up, knocking the handset out of its resting place. It dangled in front of her as it bumped against the wall.

The building shook as she pushed the red "emergency" button, hearing the dial-tone change as the system dialed into the emergency radio channel.

***

The closer they came to the ISF Research International building, the more backed up the traffic became. Matt scowled along with the other drivers as vehicles inched through one stoplight after another. Bruce sat next to him, reading through some of the papers from the previous business meeting.

His patience already tried since breakfast, the slow crawl forward did nothing to help. Matt took a deep breath. Arriving to pick up Emily in this kind of mood wouldn’t help anything. He promised himself that their discussion that night would be a lot calmer. Certainly, they could work through this problem. He was more than willing to delegate more of his business responsibilities.

Maybe a vacation and a change of scenery would help.

As he rounded the corner to turn onto the main street that would take them directly to the building Matt made a mental list of the vacation locations Emily might like best.

Billowing clouds of smoke poured out of windows of the ISF building, the lower portion of the building reflecting the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles surrounding it. He stomped on the brakes, bringing it to a sudden stop in the middle of the turn.

Bruce grabbed at the pile of paperwork on his lap that tried to launch towards the floor. The vehicles behind them started honking their horns. Bruce looked up, seeing the building, and then turned his head towards Matt, his eyes wide in horror. “Matt?”

Matt quickly scanned his surroundings. The traffic in front of them continued to inch along in all directions. Catching sight of an opening along side the sidewalk, he turned his vehicle in, stopping with the front wheels on the sidewalk and the rear of the car barely out of the way of traffic. Without saying a word to Bruce, he jumped out of the car and began to run.

Never had he run so fast, and never had it felt so slow. He passed one block after another, but the ISF building remained tantalizingly out of reach. Vehicles honked and drivers yelled out at him as he ran headlong through intersections.

Only the line of police barricades and flashing cars stopped him from barreling onto the property once he finally reached the parking lot.

“Sorry, sir, this is a restricted area.” One of the police said, pushing him back beyond the taped line.

Bruce caught up with him as he was fishing out his wallet. Breathlessly he demanded, “I’m Matt Trakker and I own this building! What is happening here?"

The name immediately caught the officer’s attention. He immediately lifted the tape and motioned him through, "Ah, Mr. Trakker. We need to speak with you."

Looking up at the gaping hole in one side of the building, Matt said sarcastically, "Oh, about what? The fact the area looks like a war zone, or that part of the building is missing?"

"Matt..." Bruce cautioned, placing a hand on his arm which Matt promptly shook off as they followed the officer.

"How many were in the building? Was it evacuated before the explosion?" Matt demanded. A balding man approached them, his dark blue suit showing streaks of soot and dirt. "Where is my wife?”

“Police Chief Amari, Mr. Trakker. We’re currently putting together a list of all people who might have been in the building at the time of the incident." The man pointed towards a tall man with a clipboard standing near the entrance of the building, "Please provide all you may know to Lieutenant. Capari. And please stay in the area, Mr.Trakker. We'll need a full statement from you before you leave.”

Chief Amari walked away before Matt could catch his breath and ask a few questions of his own. He scowled as he stalked towards the lieutenant in question.

His eyes roved over the faces of the people huddled in small subdued groups. Some he recognized, some he didn't, but all wore the expression of absolute shock. And none of the groups held the one face he desperately wanted to see. His eyes wandered to the right to an area occupied by ambulances, paramedics and doctors.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat. He knew Bruce had said something to him, but he didn't hear any of the words, his eyes focused only on the small flash of bright pink over the white of a gurney sheet as a paramedic moved.

With a strangled cry, Matt yelled out, "Emily!"

He sprinted towards the spot with all his strength. He dodged around another group of paramedics, his eyes remaining fixed on the spot.

Seeing him, a paramedic put up a warning hand and put himself between Matt and the gurney, "Sir, please stay out of the way!"

"I'm her husband!" Matt yelled, pushing past the man.

"Matt?" His name slipped out of her pale lips in a soft whisper that he could barely hear.

Kneeling down next to her, he concentrated on her face instead at the large bright red stain working its way through the white sheet covering her chest. "I'm here, Emily."

"It was Miles."

"Rest, Emily. The medivac should be here any minute," Matt said, softly stroking her cheek. As if on cue, he heard the sound of a helicopter quickly approaching.

"Love our son enough for both of us," Emily said with a soft smile, her eyes still closed.

Her face relaxed, her lips parting slightly. The paramedics pushed him out of the way, surrounding the gurney as the helicopter landed in the front parking area of the building. The rotors of the helicopter remained spun up as Emily was loaded into the back. The doors closed, and immediately the helicopter lifted off the pavement.

Matt's vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as the tears began falling down his face, his heart a stone in his chest.

***

"We retrieved only a fraction of our goal, and you call it a success?" Miles raged at Tony, leaning over the table as Tony lounged relaxed in a chair on the other side, "Your 'friends' slaughtering anyone breathing? The police responding so quickly?"

"Hey, we got the helmet thing you wanted! And you got into the computer room," Tony reminded him, chewing on a corner of his bottom lip.

The attitude only inflamed Miles even more. "After the computer files had been erased! Nothing remained to download because the plan was not followed! We should have been able to infiltrate to the top levels of the building before discovery."

"Yeah, and two of the vaults with the advanced prototypes were locked down. Good thing some were out on a workbench," Dagger said, as he adjusted a bloody bandage over his head.

"Oh, shut up. You should be at a hospital anyway," Tony bit out towards him in disgust.

"And get blamed for what I didn't do? If I go to prison, I at least want to earn it," Dagger yelled back at him, stumbling his way to his feet and confronting him, "There's no way they're going to be able to fix my eye anyway. It's not even there anymore thanks to that inept explosion! I should have set those charges. At least I know what I'm doing!"

"Trouble in paradise?" A smooth voice asked.

Miles looked towards the door to find a tall dark haired middle aged man dressed all in black. Several of the men who had assisted in the operation stood behind him and to the side with semi-automatic weapons drawn. Miles narrowed his eyes at the man, "I suppose these guerrillas are yours?"

"How ironic you should call them that." If the cold smile hadn't concerned him, the clicks as the weapons were armed more than accomplished the goal. The man continued to smile with a humor that went nowhere near the eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself. Major Ansov Brichali, head of the United Freedom Front."

Dagger laughed even as a sweat formed on his brow, "The guerrillas of the South Jungle? No wonder they didn't know what they were doing."

Major Brachali ignored him and looked over at Tony, who still leaned back calmly in his chair, "Is everything ready?"

"Everything is loaded up into the truck. Nice doing business with you," Tony said with a grin.

Miles whipped around at Tony and demanded, "What is the meaning of this?"

Tony raised an eyebrow and set the chair back down on all four legs. "Haven't you figured it out, old friend? I just took over this gang. Plus made a lucrative business deal with these fine gentlemen for the technology you discovered, and a great 'distributing' deal. You will be taking a nice trip out of country. It seems that your design and tactical knowledge can be worth quite a bit on the black market."

With the weapons aimed squarely at him all Miles could do was glare at the younger man with revenge in his eyes.

Tony smirked, "Nothing to say? Why the face? I learned it all from you."

"You're no leader," Dagger spat out at him. "This gang is nothing without Mayhem."

Ignoring him, Tony pushed himself up from the table and walked casually towards the door, "Major, you can have the one-eyed cretin, as well. Consider it a bonus to our new working relationship."

With Tony gone, the Major took one last smiling look at Miles, and then with a gesture of the hand the armed men moved forward.

To Be Continued...


	2. After the Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt must deal with the aftermath of the attack while Miles furiously plans how to get out of his bad predicament.

The lasting mental image of his wife's face at the hospital after she‘d been declared dead upon arriving would be the only thing Matt would remember from the three days after the attack on the ISF Research International building.

By the fourth day, the structural inspection and initial police investigation had been completed to the point he was allowed access. His first steps into the lobby shocked him. The entire area was nothing more than a burned-out remnant of what it once had been. Destruction followed the path of the invaders as they moved through the building. Bullet holes, scorch marks and stains covered the walls and floor. Not even the elevators were exempt from the damage.

A quick glance into the mainframe room told Matt that it was a complete loss. All the equipment inside had been blown up or melted and burned in the subsequent fire. The only data remaining would now be in the secondary archive area in the basement, and that didn’t include the most recent work. He’d heard from the head of the recovery team that the vaults with the advanced prototypes where also intact. A small victory when so much had been lost.

He stood at the doorway of Emily’s office. The door must have been closed. Other than water damage the room looked in fairly good shape. Even the window remained in one piece.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to enter. Small pools of water sat in the corners of the room, the humidity in the air mixing with the smell of charred material and burned plastic.

Matt picked up a framed photo of the family that had been knocked over. The three of them smiled at the camera with the wide expanse of a sandy beach behind them. Scott held a small toy shovel in his hand, a rudimentary sandcastle at his feet. His pent up breath left in one long exhale. He remembered the day vividly. All of them off work, just enjoying the day and the small moments. Scott determined to build the biggest sandcastle he could before the tide came in. Emily determined to get a tan, but ending up with a sunburn across her shoulders instead.  

A shuffle at the door interrupted his reminiscence. He looked up to see Bruce walking in, holding a box.

Bruce set the box on the corner of the desk. “I can do this, Matt. You don’t need to be here.”

Matt dropped the picture into the box. “No, I need to do this.”

Setting his jaw, he methodically worked his way through the desk and file cabinets. Most of the drawers held business documents, and he left them for the auditors to go through later. Most of the personal effects were either on the walls, on top of the desk or in the top right drawer, along with a stash of sugary goodies. In the end, the box sat comfortably full, along with one large picture that had hung on the wall.

Picking up the seascape painting, Matt looked around the room once more. Without Emily’s many mementos, it looked sterile and lonely. All except a Snoopy cooler sitting on the floor near the couch.

She hadn’t even had time to eat lunch.

The little reminder was nearly his undoing. Matt reached down and grabbed it by the handle, then turned and walked swiftly out of the room.

Bruce insisted on driving back to the condo. The fact he didn’t put up an argument told Matt how much in shock he still remained. And most likely would remain for some time. He didn’t bother trying to make small-talk. His mind ruminated on anything his eyes saw. The clouds, the landscaping along the freeway, the architecture of yet another large mall.

Somehow, he needed to find a way to move past this numbness interspersed with rage. Someone else relied on him. But, his heart wasn’t interested in listening. At least, not yet.

As soon as they arrived at the condo the box and painting went onto a shelf at the back of a closet, to be dealt with at a later time. Bruce took the lunch box into the kitchen to dispose of its contents.

Matt had just enough time to remove his suit jacket when Scott ran out of his room, nose red and eyes bright, latching himself to his leg. “Daddy!”

Ms. Bergstein, the nanny, quickly followed. Her gray bun had come partially undone at one point, some of the hair sticking straight out. “I’m sorry, Mr. Trakker.”

Matt picked him up, immediately noticing how warm Scott felt, “It’s all right. How are you doing today, Scott?”

Scott sniffled, rubbing his nose, “Want Mommy!”

Matt felt his forehead, finding the skin dry and hot. “Looks like you finally caught the cold that’s been going around school. Do we need to take you to the doctor?”

Scott violently shook his head, “No! Want Mommy.”

“Matt, you need to come in here.” Bruce called out from the kitchen.

Despite the protests, Matt handed Scott back to Ms. Bergstein who promptly carried him back to his room.

Entering the kitchen, he found the remains of the lunch sitting on the counter along with a long black cylinder. He immediately picked it up. How had that gotten in there?

“It looks like that new backup system one of your companies is involved with.” Bruce said as he disposed of the lunch into the garbage can.

“It is. They‘d just installed the system as a backup.” Matt automatically answered as he looked down at it.

Bruce leaned against the counter, “If I had to guess, I would say Emily knew something was happening.”

Matt couldn’t help but wonder how Emily managed it. Another part of him didn’t want to know. But, he had to know, mentally noting the cylinder looked completely pristine. “It might have captured a part of the security information, depending on when it was taken out of the mainframe. I have another terminal in the office. No doubt the data will be encrypted.”

“I would love to play with the system.” Bruce offered.

Matt handed it to him, wondering if he would be able to stomach looking at what it held, “Have at it and let me know what you find. I need to go check on Scott before heading down to the funeral home to make the final arrangements.”

***

A single fan rotated slowly in the center of the ceiling, barely moving the hot humid air sitting heavy in the room. Miles ineffectually pulled straight his suit jacket, the moisture seeming to have pressed permanent creases into portions of the fabric. The rest hung limply, the expensive custom tailored suit looking like an off-the-rack rag. Only pride kept him from dispensing with the jacket completely.

The airfield had been small, but sufficient, for the two planes he’d seen when arriving. Guarded by only a few mechanics that doubled as soldiers made it the best opportunity for escape. Unfortunately, the main compound existed several miles from the airfield. The thick jungle provided ample deterrent to a cross-country escape.

Numerous soldiers around the vehicles, and several more patrolling each of the five buildings he’d seen of the camouflaged compound. Guards at the entrance of each building, and surrounding the Major himself, all armed with automatic weapons plus a variety of smaller weapons on their belts.

A group waiting for, and expecting, a lot of trouble. Judging by the Major and those he’d met so far, a group that enjoyed trouble.

As if on cue, the Major strode into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. He dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk and then walked back towards the door, with an order of, “Follow me.” thrown out in Miles direction.

Miles bristled at the tone, but held his tongue. As they left the room, Miles quickly noted that two guards quickly took up position behind him, their rifles held ready. He didn’t deign to glance at them.

The Major made a quick offhand gesture, “I’m sure you are aware that even an attempt to leave will result in you being immediately shot. I’m hoping we can move into a more beneficial relationship as time goes on. We have much to offer.”

They stepped out into the open air of the compound, the barely controlled weeds underfoot patterned with the shadows of the camouflaging hanging over their heads, propped up by the buildings themselves and tall polls. A light breeze filtered through the netting, but the humidity remained.

Miles asked in a neutral voice, “Such as?”

“In an area close to your heart. We have been quietly acquiring technologies from around the world for some time now. Forging alliances, discovering and using our own.” The Major led them to a long building with a higher roof line at one end of the compound, slightly set away from the others. “This is our new research lab and your new home.”

Miles saw a shadow pass behind one of the screened windows. A foul odor drifted through the air, growing stronger as they proceeded towards the building. The Major entered through a wide door guarded on both sides. Miles quickly noted the large locked garage door on the right side of the main entry and the iron gratings over all the windows.

Once inside, a windowed double door led into the garage area, which proved empty of any vehicle. Instead, drums and crates carefully set on robust metal racks filled the space. A single air-conditioning vent on the far wall told Miles the room was at least minimally climate controlled.

Which was more than he could say for the hall despite the line of fans down the middle of the ceiling. The air moved, but did little to help the comfort level.

The Major gestured off to a corridor to the right, “The kitchen and dining area plus the sleeping rooms. However, what you will be most interested in will be in this end of the building.”

Large metal doors lined the main hall, one of which the Major. Miles looked around, and his heart sank even further. Shelves lined the inner wall with a variety of chemicals and small instruments. A simple metal desk sat in one corner with an office chair behind it. Three tall counters, one with a sink filled the middle of the room. Wonderful, a beginner’s laboratory with Mr. Bigshot smiling as if he were handing Miles a great gift.

“Your new lab.” Major Brachili said with a grand gesture. “We are expecting great things from you, Mayhem.”

Miles worked hard to keep from saying what he really thought, settling with, “I’m assuming you are expecting me to conduct some sort of experiment. What specifically did you have in mind?”

“Weapons research, of course. The world is a changed place since the war, as I’m sure you are well aware.” Major Brachili said as he walked around the tables, “To have loyal men is not enough. We need to be more technologically advanced than those around us. To make surgical strikes, out-gunning and out-running anyone or anything out there. We have three scientists here which you will directly oversee. You will also oversee the progress of the network of scientist and companies we know, well, you could say own. You’re a perfect fit with your past experience, contacts, scientific knowledge and organizational skills. You tell me what messages you want sent, what supplies you need, other skills that may be needed, and I will take it from there.”

“Grand ambitions.”

“Grand indeed. By this time next year, the world will not only know our name but will whispered it in fear.” The Major said, turning to face him.

Miles carefully kept his face blank, even though he heartily wished to laugh in his face. “I see a familiar box behind you. Part of what was taken from the ISF Research?”

“Your personal project.” Major Brachili smirked, “I want those masks at my disposal as soon as possible. Redesigned for maximum psychological effect, of course. Dr. Conterez is working on a fuel additive for a new engine prototype being developed elsewhere. He’ll be in one of the labs. We have a deadline of two months. I want to an immediately update on if his research will be finished on-time. At that time we will also talk about other deadlines for other projects.”

The Major walked towards the door, “Enjoy yourself. I look forward to see what you’ll come up with.”

Left alone, Miles glared around the room that had just become his prison. Steal his idea, take his gang, his life? He would not be kept here by such lowly thugs. They didn’t know whom they were dealing with. But, he swore to himself it wouldn’t be long before they did.

***

"Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy has gone away. She is with Grandpa and Grandma now."

"Mommy died?"

"Yes."

"Oh. How?"  

"The place she worked was attacked."

"By bad men?"

"Yes, very bad men."

"Oh. Daddy, are they going to come and hurt us, too?”

"No, Scott. Daddy is now trying to find the bad men so they can't hurt anyone ever again. That's why I've been working so hard."

"Oh. I hope you find them Daddy."

"So do I."

"I miss Mommy."

"So do I, Scott. So do I."

***

A wispy fog lingered in the valleys among the trees, turning the clear morning into a murky depressing haze. Probably reflecting him, Matt thought to himself.

Each word of the service pounded like thunder in his ears despite the soft voice of the minister. His eyes focused on the flower draped coffin, unable to shift them. Scott tugged on his hand, wanting to be let go. Instead, he gave the little boy a hug. Scott looked up at him with an annoyed and confused look on his face.

Scott began to fidget, pulling at the collar of his little black suit, looking around with wide eyes at all the people around them. Matt wasn’t sure how much of the funeral Scott understood, but he was sure there would be more uncomfortable questions later. All around them sat the headstones marking others of the Trakker family. In the trees were yet more, four generations resting in the Trakker family graveyard under the watchful eyes of the Rocky Mountains.

Back in Colorado, and not in the way he’d one day hoped.

The service came to an end. He rested his hand on the polished wood for one last moment, and then with one long look at the coffin, he turned to walk away from the grave site. Scott trailed after him, still tugging at his hand.

Many familiar faces moved in front of him, to which he hoped he murmured the appropriate responses. The fog curled in and out of the trees across the small road where a line of limousines sat.

Mr. Bedlow, the partner in the research project briefly shook his hand. In a thick European accent, he said, “My condolences for your tragic loss. Don’t worry about the project or the building. I have it all taken care of.”

He disappeared into the crowd, heading for one of the many black.

Scott managed to pull free, running in a zigzag around older headstones only to be caught by Ms. Malcomb, his personal assistant. Before he could relieve her of the squirming child, he spotted another familiar face.

“Alex? What are you doing here?”

Alex Sector regarded Matt with a sad smile, his balding head shining bright in the filtered light with a rich circle of bright red hair still holding fast behind his ears. Matt found his hand enveloped in a firm and strong handshake, “Where else would I be, old boy? As soon as I heard… hope you don’t mind, I asked your assistant where the funeral would be. Good to see you back in the mountains.”

Matt gave the first smile of the day. “Why would I object to seeing a good friend? Thank you for coming, it means a lot. Where have you been lately?”

“I now live in Boulder, have my own little pet shop. The consulting I do on the side keeps it interesting. Just got back from a zoo in London, in fact.”

“Just like you always wanted.”

“The slower pace fits me, although I do miss the excitement of the old days from time to time. Gallivanting around the world, troubleshooter extraordinaire. ” Alex grinned at that. Then he sobered, “If you need anything while you’re here, just ask. I have two spare bedrooms, if you need it.”

The words brought to mind the parting gift Emily had given him, almost bringing him to tears. He managed to keep it together, but lost the smile. “Would you believe it, Scott and I are staying at the old mansion. Seems Emily secretly decided it needed fixing up. She teamed up with my assistant to rebuild it.”

Matt then had to stop. Alex gave his arm one more squeeze, and then he stepped back, “Then consider tonight’s meal on me. I’ll bring it over about six. I’d like to see what the old place looks like now, anyway.”

As Alex left Ms. Malcomb came up to him, towing Scott behind her. She looked at the limousines nervously and then cleared her throat, “Sir, we need to talk. About the research project.”

“Matt, do you have a moment?”

Matt turned to see Duane Kennedy walk out of the quickly thinning crowd.

“Scott, come back here!” Ms. Malcomb suddenly yelled. She took off across the grass as fast as her heels would allow as Scott chased after a rabbit.

“Nice of you to show up, Duane.” Matt said, shaking his hand.

“I was in the area. You and Emily were always good friends.”

“Any news on the perpetrators?” Matt asked.

“Only what the local police investigators have come up with.”

Matt had been around Duane enough to catch he wasn’t telling everything, “What about the PNA? The project she worked on was associated with several PNA programs.”

Duane rubbed the back of his neck, the tops of his cheeks darkening slightly, “The PNA is not going to get involved. At the moment, there isn’t substantiated evidence if Miles Mayhem was really involved. And if he were, then the official line is that Mayhem is simply another one of the independent mercenaries that came out of the war, and the PNA does not have any responsibility to shelter people or companies using less-than-adequate security.”

“Less than adequate? My labs have better security than government labs!” Matt stopped as his voice began to rise, his hands opening and closing in fists. Then in a dangerously low voice he forced out, “He murdered my wife, Duane.”

Duane had the grace to look uncomfortable.

“Do you feel this is just another mercenary pest trying to make themselves known?”

“No mercenary is simply a pest.” Duane quickly responded.

“At least we agree on that.”

“You and I do, the higher-ups think differently. With several countries forced into peace still causing trouble, this incident is on the bottom of a priority list pages long.”

“In other words, anyone Mayhem decides to target is on their own.” Matt guessed, having to turn his face away.

“Essentially.”

“Wonderful.”

***

Matt looked out the window of the sun-room at the end of the East Wing. Scott happily splashed about in the shallow end of the pool, Ms. Bergstein carefully watching him. The sun would soon be setting, but by then Scott would be pleasantly worn out to not protest going to bed right after dinner.

Speaking of dinner, the aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make his stomach wake up and take notice for the first time in a week.

“Another few minutes and we’ll be ready.” Alex called out from the kitchen.

Bruce appeared at the door of the sitting room, his face serious, “Have a moment?”

Matt moved away from the window. “Of course.”

Bruce came in, followed by Ms. Malcomb. Bruce stood to the side of the doorway, “I know this isn’t a good time, but I think there is a business problem you should hear about.”

He turned to Ms. Malcomb, who held a pack of files and envelopes to her chest. She adjusted her glasses nervously, “I’m so sorry to bring this to your attention at a time like this, sir, but I think you would want to know.”

She glanced at Bruce nervously and then back at Matt. He prodded, “Go ahead.”

“It’s about Ms. Trakker’s project, sir. I started looking into it further, to see if I could find anything that could be provided as evidence to track down… uh, well, anyway, I did find some recent activity.” She stopped to clear her voice before rushing forward, “Sir, it’s Mr. Bedlow. Recently he’s contacted and initiated orders with clients with rather shady pasts or connections. Countries, militaries, groups.”

“So, that’s why the orders looked so good.” Matt mused, recalling the accounting summary he’d seen only a few weeks before.

“It’s more than that, sir. This morning he sent out an invitation to buyers for the assets of the project, to these same entities.”

Matt had enough awareness of his surroundings to know that Alex was now standing in the doorway listening. He couldn’t help wonder if a cover company for Mayhem could be found on the list. Perhaps that was how he knew what secrets the research labs held? He glanced at Bruce, who still held the same serious gaze.

“Do you have a list?”

Ms. Malcomb handed over two sheets stapled together. Matt read down only half through the first page before saying, “Ms. Malcomb, have the jet prepared for immediate departure. We return to L.A. tonight.”

“Shall we pack Scott’s…”

“Scott stays here with Ms. Bergstein.” Matt interrupted, “I want him to remain in the security of this house. Bruce, I’ll need your help.”

“Of course.” Bruce said, relieving Matt. He had no right to ask him for more help. He’d already delayed going back to his job for more time than he had a right to. Matt mentally made a note to call Bruce’s supervisor to thank him for sparing Bruce for so long.

Matt looked over to Alex, “Sorry, I’m going to miss your special meal.”

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. As for dinner, you’re taking some with you.” Alex immediately turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Matt took the time to look out at Scott playing. He was thoroughly soaked with a big grin on his face. Scott turned and dove back into the water, coming up a few minutes later a few feet away, doing his best imitation of a dolphin.

Time for changes, and what better to start than where to live.

***

Not only did Matt not sleep that night, but neither did a good number of lawyers and accountants. By the time he walked into the ISF Research building with a fleet of trucks outside, and a security firm hired to also act as movers, he had moved past the fatigue. His senses alert, he felt ready to tackle anything. The cup of coffee in his hand and the anger went a long way towards helping.

Ms. Malcomb stayed by his side through all of it, being her usual efficient self, although she managed a catnap in the early morning hours as they waited for documents to be drawn up.

Bruce supervised the packing and loading while Matt waited at the front doors in the company of two security personnel who guarded the once-elegant lobby. Every few minutes another security guard would walk by the front doors on his rounds, the guard standing outside the door acknowledging each lap around the building.

As he waited his mind went over the documentation Ms. Malcomb had managed to get her hands on, once again amazed at his luck in getting someone so resourceful to work for him. Another few days and it would have been too late to do anything at all.

A black stretch limousine glided to a stop in front of the building. Two more security guards came out of the back of the building to guard the lobby. Matt set his coffee cup down on the remains of the receptionist’s deck and stepped out the front door with Ms. Malcomb and two more security personnel behind him.

Another man stopped in the process of following Mr. Bedlow out of the limousine, someone Matt didn’t recognize. Mr. Bedlow glanced passingly at his entourage before putting on one of the worst fake smiles Matt had ever seen. “Matt, I didn’t expect you here today.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. I’m in the midst of tying up a few business loose ends, preparing for a personal move. It was best we got this out of the way as soon as possible.” Matt said, moving his hand out of a pocket. Ms. Malcomb immediately filled it with a thick stuffed legal-sized yellow envelope. He immediately handed it to Mr. Bedlow. “Contract clause 21, subsection B. Consider it activated as of early this morning.”

The smile slipped, “You’re what?”

“As a majority owner of this partnership, I am enacting my right to buy out your stake in this particular venture. You will find all the necessary files in the envelope, along with a bank draft for the full amount. Our partnership is dissolved.”

The smile completely disappeared. “I have full buyers, Mr. Trakker. I don’t think you realize the work I’ve put into these deals and the amount of money involved. When I walk away, I take those buyers with me.”

“And please be sure to pass on to those buyers that I’m not interested in selling any of the assets.” Matt said smoothly. “I wish you well in your future business endeavors.”

Matt turned and walked back into the building before Mr. Bedlow could respond. The two security guards stayed near the door while Matt retreated into the shadows of the dark lobby, grabbing his cup of coffee as he did. Mr. Bedlow ripped open the envelope, gave one look at the top paper and scowled at the door. He turned and a few moments later the limousine drove away.

“You just cost him a lot of money.” Ms. Malcomb said quietly, “It’s the only thing he loves. Best be watchful.”

“He’ll be losing more than what he hoped to sell all this for. He also just lost several electronic contracts and a potential oil deal.” Matt said. “Considering the number of loans he’s taken out, he best watch himself or wind up in the poor house.”

“Such a fate would be fitting.” Ms. Malcomb said, trying to hide a pleased smile.

Matt could only agree.

***

"Not a bad start." Miles said, looking over the refining equipment. "It won't produce much at first."

Dr. Conterez shifted nervously, "That's why I've started construction on a secondary set-up, sir."

"I see we've been asked to produce several barrels." Miles said.

The set-up might be primitive, but he was impressed with Dr. Conterez's imagination with the engineering. And the additive. Oh yes, that had definite possibilities. He could understand the Major’s great interest in it. If it could be coupled with an engine specifically designed to take advantage of it, the results could be phenomenal.

His mind began going over the lists of projects he was now overseeing, wondering which one it might be. He didn't have all the detailed files yet.

"I'll start, sir, but I am concerned about the toxic fumes. We have no filtration here. As yet, I have not been able to alter the process to eliminate them. It's quite dangerous for anyone to be in the same room. Perhaps with better equipment…"

"I doubt we will be able to convince Major Brachili that such a system needs to be ordered in the time-frame he’s demanded the additive to be ready." Miles neatly interrupted.

"Oh dear." The older man looked out the window, growing more nervous with time.

Miles stepped away from the contraption filling the far corner of the room, "We simply must make do with what we have. Wear an environmental suit attached to canisters while producing. We'll set up a high-powered fan in the window to vent the fumes. The winds have been constant lately, we’ll use nature to do the rest."

Dr. Conterez muttered away to himself as he worked around the room. Miles left him to his devices, the old man the least of his concerns. Dr. Conterez loved his work, and worked diligently at it all his waking hours, his only unhappiness being the loneliness from separation from his family. Like the other two scientists in the building, Dr. Conterez had not come willingly.

And he would use that later.

As he left the room, he heard a loud thump at the end of the corridor. He hurried towards it. As he’d hoped, more supplies were in the process of being off-loaded. And in the midst of the group of three men was one he hadn't seen since first arriving.

"Go up, one eye! Get moving, or we'll take the other eye!" One of them yelled out as he pushed one of the barrels down the loading planks with a speed that made Miles cringe.

Miles watched Dagger work for a moment, a patch adorning one eye. Dagger worked despite the insults hurled his way by the other men in two languages, only one of which Dagger understood. But, the flush face told him that Dagger understood the meaning behind them.

"Careful with the barrel!" Miles yelled at the man in the truck as another barrel rolled quickly towards the rear ramp, "You want to blow up the entire compound?"

The man scowled at Miles, but stopped the barrel. He dropped to the ground and then worked to gently roll the barrel down out of the back of the truck.

"Still around, I see." Miles said quietly as Dagger lugged a big crate into the back of the storage room.

"They haven't killed me yet, but not for want of trying." Dagger muttered back.

"Make yourself useful to the idiots. Ingratiate yourself. Then be ready when I tell you to move." Miles said as the barrel reached the ground.

"Have a plan?"

"Working on it. It won't be long now."

Dagger snickered and stood up straighter, his face clearing of its flush, "Just tell me what to do."

***

From the time he arrived back in Colorado with his business completed in L.A., he wasn't thinking, only moving on autopilot. He knew it but couldn’t stop himself. Alex came by after work every evening, with Bruce calling in from L.A. at all times of the day. One part of him felt angry at their nurse-maiding, the other part didn't care.

Ms. Bergstein had remained in L.A., wanting to remain with her extended family. Her sister, Ms. Simmons who lived with her husband nearby, had taken over as part-time nanny for Scott. However, the arrangement meant that Matt was without her services at night.

Scott. The only thing that kept him from caring about the world in general. His cold relapsed the day after the funeral, and felt completely miserable. A young boy who, of course, wanted his mother to make him feel better.

Matt cradled him against his chest, gently rocking back and forth in the big padded rocking chair next to his bed. Scott sniffled once and fell into a deeper sleep. Meanwhile, the images of the funeral haunted Matt. Images from it played across his mind over and over again.

His arm starting to hurt from supporting Scott, he carefully lifted the boy and set him down in his bed. Propping him up slightly, he pulled the blankets up to cover him. Scott hardly twitched. Matt looked down at him for a moment, and then with a deep sigh turned.

He went straight for the kitchen and washed his hands. Seeing that someone had brewed a fresh cup of coffee, he filled a mug. The hot liquid felt good against his throat. He swallowed half of it in two big gulps, not caring if it kept him awake. He wasn't sleeping much now, anyway.

Hearing a noise from the other room, Matt followed the sound. One of the inner rooms next to the room he’d chosen as his personal office sat filled with computer equipment. Through another side door was another large room filled with the remaining prototype masks brought in from the research building, along with other equipment.

Alex sat in front of a computer, the mainframe beside him blinking with multiple colored lights. Alex glanced back at Matt as he leaned over to what was on the screen.

"I take it the drive is undamaged?" Matt asked.

"Your people designed it to be rugged." Alex said, "She was smart to have saved it, although how she managed it, I don't know."

"She must have had warning they were coming up." Matt droned, "Dropped it in her lunch box at the last moment."

"And I must say, the computer system Emily put together looks incredible. If it works half as well as it looks, it's a major breakthrough in real-time voice interface and fuzzy logic capability." Alex said.

"She excelled at design." Matt said without any emotional inflection in his voice.

Alex stopped his typing. "Matt, you can't keep..."

"...Blaming myself?" Matt interrupted. "Oh yes, I can. I could have helped her, protected her. Originally, we were supposed to have an early lunch together. But, I insisted she take the whole day off and she got stubborn. I was just determined to beat Naghati in a business deal. Never again will business come before family."

"A large group of cold-blooded terrorists, who didn't think twice about spilling blood, and you, unarmed, were going to take them on? The fact Emily survived as long as she did was a miracle. If you had been there, Scott would now be an orphan."

Matt turned his head away from Alex.

Alex typed a little more, bringing up a new screen filled with programming. "You and Emily created the Trakker Foundation to preserve and help this world for your son and following generations. Now live for your son. Emily would have wanted that. As long as he lives, she lives. Are you going to let what Miles Mayhem did deprive Scott of the life both of you envisioned for him?"

“I’m not giving up on living.” Matt answered testily as he went to stand in the other doorway. One long table sat against a wall with all the prototype masks sitting in a neat row. Several experimental energy storage devices stood on their own stands along another wall.

“I didn’t say you were. But, you also can’t allow unwarranted guilt consume you.” Alex added.

Matt didn’t like the direction the conversation had taken. He nodded towards the masks. “What do you think of them?”

Alex stood up and came to stand next to Matt, “Interesting designs. Would be more useful if each mask could have multiple uses, but there is already an energy retention problem.”

Matt walked into the room, picking up a gray mask with a visor that cut across the upper portion for the eyes. “I don’t understand that part. The documentation claims to have solved the battery problem, and yet they won’t keep a charge.”

“Bruce and I took a look at that. Seems they had one spectacular success with this design before the crystal they used fractured when they used it for a different experiment. Long charge, more power available than the designers dared hope.”

“Let me guess, they haven’t been able to reproduce the crystal.” Matt said, setting the mask back down.

“And not for want of trying. We have one of the crystal growing machines in here, haven’t had a chance to look at it yet.”

Matt looked over at him, “Do you want to give it a try?”

Alex leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

Matt moved on to look at some of the other equipment. How much room would they need to bring in some of the other equipment? He wished Bruce were around, but he had no right to ask him to move just because of him. “Miles is out there and he has several prototypes. Do you think he’ll resist using them?”

“Oh, he’ll use them. It’s just a matter of when.” Alex quickly responded.

“Exactly.” Matt stopped and turned, looking straight at Alex, “And when he does, who will have the power to stand up to him?”

Alex didn’t answer him right away, but instead took his time looking at all the equipment in the room. “You intend to continue the research? Set up a new research lab?”

“Most of the people who worked on this technology are now dead. Set up another lab somewhere else and it’ll be just a matter of time before Miles shows up to steal them again. No, not a research lab. Us. Get them ready to use. To be ready for Miles when he makes his move.”

Alex whistled. “That’s a lot of work. Although, I admit interest in working with the technology.”

“As am I.”

Alex slowly nodded, a slight smile appearing on his face. “Then we have a lot of work to do.”


	3. The Gathering

“You need more?" Major Brichali yelled across the desk. "You always need more!”

Miles stood his ground, glaring back at him. “You wanted me to head up the research and I’m telling you what we need. Dr. Kilpatrick's research would be a perfect fit. And I mean him, all his research, including all the computer files and all his prototypes.”

The Major leaned forward, scowling fiercely, “Is this your way of telling me the masks won’t be ready on time?”

“I already told you that they wouldn’t be ready. We don’t have the equipment here, nor the complete files. If you will recall, they were destroyed in the ISF fiasco. We’re having to back-engineer the blasted things! Transfer them to Dr. Corbin and then having Dr. Kilpatrick work with him is the best chance we have of getting caught up.” Miles said, raising his voice to the same level as the Major.

A guard at the door shifted uncomfortably as Major Brichali glared fiercely at Miles. Miles kept his gaze steady and just as strong. He would not be the first to turn away.

With a disgusted expression, Major Brichali sat back into his chair. “Fine, your request for that project to be moved to the other lab is approved. You better be right about the scientist’s abilities.”

“I only work with the best. Dr. Corbin has the best potential for understanding the masks. Then we can see about designing new versions.” Miles said, letting his voice drop back down to its normal level.

“Crate it all up and I’ll see that it’s transported. I’ll send a team out for Dr. Kilpatrick.”

By the time he left, Miles felt rather pleased with himself. Dr. Corbin would indeed do a good job on the masks. Unfortunately for the Major, it was for Miles that he would be doing a good job for.

***

Matt watched the short clip again for the third time. As he'd earlier thought, he didn't like what he saw. The replay didn't make it any better.

Mayhem had joined with the big-boys. At least, if his suspicions proved correct. He copied out of the cylinder the specific clip and opened a secure data line with his lawyer’s office. Another copy of it went to Duane Kennedy, pulling an old favor, hoping to help with identification.

When done, he leaned back in the chair. This complicated things. Mayhem liked working with smaller groups, with him as the leader. This wasn't his normal modus operandi. What was he up to? Planning something bigger? Expanding his operations?

Matt shut down the computer and stood up. With a hot cup of coffee in his hand, he walked over to the next room and looked inside. More equipment filled the room, with Alex starting to organize a work desk for himself. Two of the experimental battery recharging units had been removed after Alex determined they were going down the wrong path. Matt had to agree. When they caused the batteries to explode, it was a bad sign.

In their place sat a new high-powered mainframe and a tall specialty toolbox. A vacuum chamber sat in another corner, currently in the process of growing a new batch of crystals, the mainframe watching their development every second of the way. They’d already started a few experiments, starting small as they familiarized themselves with the equipment, and taking up where the earlier experiments had ended. The new batch should have a stronger set of crystals. Hopefully. In a few days, they would know for sure.

He went to find Scott, finding him just finishing breakfast with Mr. Simpson describing the fun things they would be doing that day. Scott bounced in his chair, having rebounded from the cold to his usual over-active self.

“Do I get to go to the office with you, Dad?” Scott immediately asked as soon as he saw him.

“Sorry, son. I think you would find it very boring.” Matt said as he sat down next to him.

“No I wouldn’t!” Scott said quickly, almost overturning his cereal bowl. “It would be fun!”

“School will start soon. Wouldn’t you like to make some friends before then?”

Scott scrunched his face, “What?”

“Ms. Simpson is going to take you to the playground today. You can make new friends.” Matt repeated, as Ms. Simpson wiped away some of the spilled milk.

“You’ll have lots of fun, Scott.” Ms. Simpson said. “You can meet my nephew. He’s about your age, too.”

Scott didn’t look convinced, but didn’t let himself become depressed. He continued to talk away while still eating the cereal, barely taking time to chew. Matt left the house as Ms. Simpson took him up to his room to change his cereal-encrusted clothes.

The limousine glided through traffic with typical grace, but he had to admit he wouldn’t mind driving himself. Maybe he should see about bringing to the mansion something from his automobile collection. Or, maybe something new?

Although, it did give him extra time to go through more work as he traveled to and from Denver. By the time he arrived at the Trakker Westwind Electronics building, he had a good idea of what needed to be done that day. Ms. Malcomb had yet to arrive for the day, so Matt settled in the office he’d appropriated for himself. When the phone rang, he automatically picked it up himself.

By the time he set the phone down all humor had left his face. So, it was happening again, and the data file he’d sent didn’t look like it would make much of a difference. He was tempted to put a call into Duane.

As of on cue, the phone rang again.

“Please tell me you have better news.” Matt said as soon as he picked up the receiver.

“A preliminary identification based on the weaponry and the few identifying marks we could find in the video.” Duane answered, “United Freedom Front, a rather small group trying to make a name for themselves around the world. Currently no National affiliations. A group that would definitely be interested in working with Mayhem and the technology he likes to employ.”

“How much of a threat?”

“At this point, almost none. That will need to be upgraded after the attack on your research facility.”

“The police investigators still believe Mayhem to be the sole perpetrator. They believe the clipping shows only that. Is anyone going after this new group?”

“As far as we can tell they aren’t presently in the country, Matt. We know too little about them to know where they are based. No one can do much of anything, other than issue U.S. arrest warrants for the few people in the video we can positively identify. Even with Mayhem, we know his voice, but his face is never seen. Getting a conviction at this point will be nigh to impossible. Especially with the high-powered lawyers he has on his side.”

“You’re starting to sound like my lawyer.” Matt said, slamming a drawer on the desk shut.

“I’m simply telling the truth as I see it now.”

“I do appreciate that.”

“I was hoping you would. I’ll see if I can put any feelers out about this group. If they are increasing their activity, I want to know about it. I’ll keep you posted.”

On his own.

He turned his chair to look out the window and down at the street below. The office building across the street reflected the pale blue of the sky in the windows. The trees were turning brilliant shades of red and orange.

Snow wouldn’t be far behind. He looked forward to seeing how Scott would react to so much snow around. So far the only snow he'd been around had been on family vacations and the occasional flurry surviving to the ground in southern California.

The thought of his son brought another frown. During breakfast, he'd babbled non-stop about a story he made up about a 'lost' Queen of an imaginary kingdom. Ms. Simpson found it highly amusing and was proud that Scott was so imaginative. Matt knew better. He needed to see about finding a good counselor in the area to help.

The door to the office swung open, and Ms. Malcomb walked in. From the bun on her head, to her tailored suit and skirt, to her polished shoes, the woman gave the outer appearance of a model of efficiency. "Good to see you in, sir. I have mail that needs your attention."

"Thank you." Matt said as she also set down a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him.

"All in a days work, sir. Are there any special projects for today?"

Matt motioned to the stacks of paper and reports on his desk, "Other than trying to avoid getting killed by an avalanche of paper? Not at the moment."

"Very good, sir. I'll be at my desk if you need anything."

Matt took a sip of his coffee as she walked out, softly closing the door behind her. As his eyes caught sight the title of one of the reports now in front of him, he reached across the desk to the phone, summoning Ms. Malcomb back into the office.

She immediately re-appeared, an eyebrow raised, "Did you remember something?"

"Ms. Malcomb, please close the door behind you." He waited until she closed the door and settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. Did he have a right to bring her into this? He took a deep breath. "How long have you worked for the company?"

Ms. Malcomb smiled, laugh lines forming around her mouth and eyes, "Since before your Father invited you into the business."

"That brings back memories." Matt said, looking at the pre-Raphaelite landscape painting hanging on one of the walls, the first piece of art he'd bought to celebrate the momentous occasion. He’d thought when he' seen it that it was appropriate for the office of someone who would someday run one of the worlds largest corporations. "Out of anyone in my company, I believe I can trust you with a very special project."

"Of course. My loyalty is well-known. What would you like me to work on?"

"More of a gathering mission, but one that will need very careful handling. And you mustn’t be noticed. I don’t want you endangered.”

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes studying his face. “Dangerous?”

“It has the potential, after what happened today. If you would prefer I ask someone else, I will."

She closed the tablet on her lap and slipped the pen into the wire binder. Sitting back with her hands primly folded in her lap, she asked, “Okay, spill. What needs done?”

In the end, she simply nodded, saying “I’ll get right on it.” and left the room.

He should have known she wouldn’t balk at taking it on. Nothing ever seemed to phase her. He quite willingly accepted another secretary to help him while she was preoccupied.

That night he drove home, exhausted, but satisfied with what he'd been able to accomplish. A few more days of hard work and the desk would be cleared off. He sat back and tried to enjoy the ride home in the limousine, but to no avail. Perhaps he would feel better once he knew all the loose ends were tied up.

The moment he stepped through the door of the mansion, his cell phone started ringing. Taking it out of his pocket, he quickly answered, holding it with one hand as he used the other to take off his jacket. He smiled at Alex as he came into the foyer.

Then Matt's smile froze, and then quickly disappeared. "When? Are the police there? Are you alright? Good. No, go home, we'll talk in the morning. Thank you for calling me."

Alex crossed his arms, "More bad news."

Matt hung his coat in the closet, "This morning I asked Ms. Malcomb to collect together the obsolete prototypes for the masks from anyone who had been apart of the project. She arrived at Dr. Kilpatrick's laboratory to find it surrounded by police and a fire crew. She overheard one of the police talk about a bullet wound to the head."

Alex grimaced, "He was the last of the core scientists."

"This morning I received word Dr. Swift was murdered, all his research and prototypes stolen.”

Alex flinched, jerking his head up, “Good lord!”

Matt shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Mayhem doesn't want anyone else to have the technology. Alex, can you take a break from the hard drive to help Ms. Malcomb tomorrow? I would like to see the rest of the old prototypes under lock and key as soon as possible."

"Done."

"Where's Scott?"

Alex nodded towards the living room. "Enjoying his favorite television show. Ms. Simpson had to leave about an hour ago. Some kind of family emergency."

"Thank you for watching him."

"Matt." Alex's voice stopped Matt as he was headed towards the living room, "Scott keeps asking where his Mother is. He seems to think you might know."

Matt looked at Alex for a moment, and then closed his eyes. He chastised himself. He should have known that the quick talk they'd had before wouldn't satisfy a boy of Scott's active imagination. He should have prepared for it.

Opening them again, he said, "Thanks for the warning.“

***

"You did what?" Miles demanded, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

"You wanted information, you got it!" the Major snarled back, giving a warning look.

"This Mask is nearly worthless. What was in his brain was important!" Miles nearly yelled back, ignoring the expression. How could this person be so stupid? The dark mask sitting on the table between them mocked and laughed at them as the humans argued over top of it. "He could have helped design amazing masks, and now that knowledge is gone forever!"

"You are a scientist yourself, Mayhem. Surely, you can put together something better."

"Do you have any idea how long it will take to catch up? The men were geniuses! By killing Dr. Swift and Dr. Kilpatrick all ideas and possible breakthroughs are now gone. Their research and knowledge were invaluable to this technology!”

Major Brichali’s fists coming down hard on the table, making the mask jump. "If they don’t join us, they are dead! The rest is your concern, Mayhem! You go too far! You are not the leader here, you will not make the decisions! The decisions I make are final, and you will cease arguing or contradicting them!"

“You demand results, and then proceed to sabotage our efforts by your ‘orders’. We will not be on time, only the basic masks are even close to test readiness. Do you really believe that great scientific minds grow on trees?”

Major Brichali scowled at him, his forehead creased into a myriad wrinkles. "Beware for your own well-being, Mayhem. Do your job and finish decoding the information we retrieved. Prepare diagrams for the masks you now have. Now leave, I am finished quarreling with you."

To say "As you wish" and calmly walking out of the room with the mask took every ounce of strength he possessed. The guards eyed him as he stalked down the hall. Returning to the research building Miles found Dagger moving supplies out of the storage room and into the individual labs.

“Do you have their trust?” Mayhem asked silently.

Dagger looked up as he positioned a canister on one of the lower shelves, a scowl on his own face, "These people are crazy, Mayhem. War is one thing, but no profit? What good is money if the world is destroyed, anyway."

Mayhem set the mask down on a table with a false calm, "Oh, you will have it, Dagger. If you do exactly as I say."

***

“Vroooooom!” Scott roared, pushing a toy car across the carpet.

“Yes, he’s doing fine. He’s already made several friends at school.” Matt answered Bruce over the phone. The toy car ran over his foot and then under the desk, Scott continuing to provide the accompanying sounds.

On the advice of the counselor, Matt had switched to using the home office for at least half the week. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the distractions, although he occasionally did find himself wishing for the solitude of the office in Denver. No doubt, Scott thrived with him working from home. Although at first Scott camped out in the home office every spare moment, the visits were becoming a little less frequent. The diminishing midnight nightmares were also a sign Scott was settling into the new home and new family dynamic.

“Good to hear.” Bruce said. Scott scooted out the other side of Matt’s chair, forcing Matt to move it to the side to allow room. “Now, you want to tell me what you and Alex are up to?”

“What do you mean “up to”?” Matt asked, rescuing his coffee cup before the toy car could make a plunge into boiling lava.

“Saved at the last second!” Scott announced. Then he continued his adventure out the door.

“The sly fox is always up to something, foretold by his silence.” Bruce said with a chuckle.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. How is the job going?”

“And he changes the subject.” Bruce sighed. “The last few days have been tense. We had a violent break-in at the other site.”

Matt leaned his head against the back of his chair. “Please don’t tell me it was weapons related.”

“A compact ammunition, expands with the heat of the weapons discharge. I’m not in the project, but it’s affected the entire company.”

Matt closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anyone hurt?”

“Fortunately, no. However, the lab was destroyed after a purposely set explosive blew. Matt, I hate to bring this up, but it looked like the same type of explosive we saw in the ISF building.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I can’t be sure without testing, but I was one of those asked to assess the damage. I found a few parts from the detonator. Turned them over to the police, of course, but they were the same.”

“Many groups use the same detonator.” Matt said, trying to ease his own mind.

“You don’t believe that anymore than I do. Now, do you want to tell me what you and Alex have been up to for the last several weeks? He keeps calling me about equipment setup. And a rather eclectic and interesting mix of equipment.”

Matt took a sip of coffee. He should have known Bruce would figure out they were working on a project. “We’re… working on something.”

“Then count me in. What needs to be done?”

“Whoa, wait a minute. You have a life of your own.”

“Knowing you, you have a plan developing. I can be moved out there in a matter of weeks. I wouldn’t mind finding work at a company unaffiliated with weapons research. Perhaps I will apply at your toy company in the engineering department. That’s something I’ve always been interested in.”

“Why do I have a feeling you already know what I’m up to?” Matt said, a little amused as Scott reappeared with another toy car in his hands.

Bruce chuckled again, “Because I’ve known you so long. Want to give me details?”

“Not over this phone line.”

“Then I’ll call you later tonight from your L.A. offices on a secure line. We can discuss it further.”

“Look, Dad! It transforms!” Scott said, pushing and pulling the car until it turned into a tank. He set it on his desk calendar with a triumphant grin.

Matt picked up the tank and looked at it. “I’ll be waiting for your call, Bruce. How do you feel about vehicle design?”

***

Miles fumed as the conversation between Major Brichali and several visitors whirled over his head. Looking over at the door, he found one of the armed guards looking straight at him with a hand on his firearm. The sight only fueled his fury.

Knowing his anger would soon get the better of him, he stood up, "If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I have an experiment I must attend to before it destroys itself."

He walked swiftly towards the door. It wasn’t as if the bozo’s needed him for the meeting. He could feel Major Brichali’s glare drill a hole in his back. His eyes defied the guard to pull his weapon on him. The way he felt now, he would wrestle the thing away from him and use it on several of the people in the room. The young goons might be surprised how spry 'grandpa' could really be.

The conversation behind him continued unabated as he gained the door, the guard most likely having been given a signal to allow him to pass. He stopped in the hallway for a split moment, taking a deep cleansing breath.

The moment helped calm him. The rational part of his brain kicked in again, free from the anger, intent on working this situation to his advantage. And, if possible, involving a bit of revenge. There had been talk of a tour. The perfect time to perhaps talk to one of the ministers while Major Brichali was suitably distracted.

With a new plan in mind Miles continued on his way to the research building. He noticed for the first time how unusually empty the halls appeared. Perhaps the 'great leader' decided that the riffraff that comprised his group would be a detriment to his planned hope for an alliance with the ministers.

"General Mayhem?" a voice behind him asked.

Miles stopped and looked back. Mr. Hiutsu walked quickly towards him. Most considered him as the weakest and quieter of the ministers, a perception Mr. Hiutsu purposely reinforce with his slightly dowdy appearance, large glasses and bumbling gait. Miles knew better than to believe in the image.

Very interesting.

"I informed the Major I wished to see your lab." Mr. Hiutsu said as soon as he caught up.

“I am no longer a General. Call me Miles Mayhem. This way.” Miles said, motioning with his head towards the open area between the buildings. He led the way out the nearest door into the grassy center compound. He slowed his walk down as much as possible, “If you have anything private you wish to speak of I suggest you do it quickly.”

Mr. Hiutsu’s expression didn’t change a bit. “Always a pleasure to speak with someone so mentally quick. I was asked to convey an important message. The ministers are concerned about the ambitions of this group."

Miles nodded, "Ah, so this is a scouting mission, not to make an alliance. The Major will be ever so displeased."

"Of sorts. However, we are in need of a good organizer for future, shall we say, 'projects'. A few ministers viewed the Major as a potential candidate, considering his organizational skills and points of contact. However, we are far more interested in you. Unlike Major Brichali, we know you will not be here for long. You are a leader yourself, not a follower. I'm sure the Major is about to find this out to his extreme detriment."

"What are you proposing? What's in it for me?"

"Safety. You need safe refuge from the law enforcement of the PNA while involved in your own projects. We can provide that. In exchange you lend us your expertise on our projects." Miles felt a soft ruffle in his jacket pocket, and he knew something had been slipped in, "Contact us when you have dealt with this situation and we can discuss specifics. I think you will find our projects very interesting, and potentially very profitable."

They arrived outside the laboratory, and Miles said lowly, "We're no longer safe in this area."

"I have said what I wish to."

Mr. Hiutsu entered the building. Miles followed, noting again that the halls were empty. He led the way to his personal laboratory.

As he entered, he once again looked in disdain at the facilities. Surely, he had risen above this? He went through the motions of showing him the simple experiment he'd used as an exit excuse, making sure the security camera saw him.

As he suspected, Major Brichali and the other Ministers followed them shortly. Major Brichali proceeded to boast about their ground-breaking research, and the skeleton of the a new kind of civilian assault vehicle being built in the next room. The Ministers looked on with feigned interest, taking turns asking questions. After an hour of being shown around the facility they declared themselves ready to leave and report their observations to the Council.

Left in peace, Miles continued to work slowly on simple experiments as his mind processed all the ramifications of his short conversation.

"What did he want?" the Major demanded from the door suddenly.

"To see the quality of the laboratory, of course. He was impressed with our endeavors despite the primitive nature of the facilities." Miles said, continuing his work.

Major Brichali grumbled something under his breath before slamming the door. Most likely on his way to listen to the whole conversation in the lab from the recordings taken by the eavesdropping devices sprinkled around the room.

Miles narrowed his eyes again as he measured out an exact quantity of acid. Oh yes, things were about to change.


	4. Mayhem's Revenge

“I like that one!” Scott said, stabbing at one of the sketches with a finger.

Matt couldn’t help but grin. The high-end red gull-wing Camaro reminded him of the car he’d wanted as a teen, only his Father had insisted on something more practical. And he wouldn’t mind driving it. It would be a nice change from the sedans and renovated vehicles he currently owned. Bruce had outdone himself on the disguise side of things. Each vehicle changed from off-the-street ordinary into fighting machines.

“A nice hot-rod, don’t you think?” Matt said as he shuffled through the other sketches.

Scott grabbed the Camaro sketch, declaring, “It needs racing stripes. Can it really fly?”

Now that was a good question. “Possibly. We have access to the basic technology, but we’ll still have to test the idea.”

“You could fly me to school! I want to be an astronaut.” Scott announced. “Bruce should design something for space.”

Scott looked through a few more sketches, declaring all of them in need of racing stripes, before going back to his room to see if he could find a toy spaceship.

A dull thump vibrated the floor beneath his feet. Matt dropped the sketches and raced for the door. He barreled down the hall and down a flight of stairs into the basement.

He burst through the door of a long secured storage room just as Alex was taking off one of the masks.

“What was that?”

Alex smiled sheepishly at him. “I think we need a lot more cinder blocks for testing.”

Matt looked down to the other side of the room. Nothing remained of the target. Where several layers of heavy cinder blocks once stood only a shattered mess remained. Beyond that, a metal and concrete wall still stood, the center of it singed black.

 “Firing gave me an awful headache.” Alex said with a sigh.

Matt looked away from the rubble down at the mask, “What power setting were you using?”

“Barely half of what was available, but it drained the entire system. At least we know it works.”

Matt snorted, “Oh yes, it definitely worked! You said a headache?”

Ales looked down at the mask, turning it over in his hands, “Could be the interface. Perhaps the display.”

“If they’re going to cause that, they may not be as useful as we hoped. We don’t have any of the original designers to help solve a major problem.”

“Or it will take the right person to make the correct mental connection for the inner controls.” Alex turned back to the table next to the door where two other masks sat. He motioned at the mask at the furthest end, “Now, the personal levitation mask I had no problem with. Not even a niggle of a headache. The other one I could feel the strain, but it wasn’t as bad as this one.”

The black and gray masks stared up at him, each one uniquely shaped, “Interesting. Which means we’ll have to test each of them on each one of us, hoping one fits.”

“Which is what testing is for.”

“Indeed it is.” Matt agreed. Then he gave Alex a grin, “Just one thing. Please try not to destroy the house.”

***

"Changing out the canisters," Miles warned, walking over to the table next to the door to grab one. Blue smoke floated through the air of the locked and closed room.

Normally, he would scowl at such a sight. A properly outfitted lab would have had the equipment contained, with the vapors sufficiently taken filtered so that the scientists on the other side of the safety room could observe without working in such bulky protective suits. Not here. Here, they had to work directly among the refining equipment.

"So much to produce. We'll never be able to fulfill this order by tomorrow," Dr. Conterez said, concentrating on the equipment in front of him. He stuttered over his words, showing his growing exhaustion.

"Perhaps our illustrious leader could be persuaded to give us more time," Miles said as he began replacing the spent oxygen canisters that supplied both of their environmental suits.

"No, no, we'll get it finished. We must.” Dr. Conterez quickly said. The man had shown a deathly fear of Major Brachili, reducing to trembles when they were in the same room. Perhaps that was why he lived when so many other scientists had recently died. Miles pressed his lips together at that thought. Good minds should be used, not extinguished.

“Activating the second vat," Dr. Conterez announced just before flipping several switches on a console.

The lights in the room dimmed for a few seconds before brightening again. Mayhem looked up at them as he finished replacing the last canister. The second set of generators, just on time.

He calmly straightened up and returned to the tables, his air hose trailing out behind him. The second vat quickly warmed up, the cocktail of chemicals in it starting to bubble. As the vapors slowly rose, moving through a cascade of tubes, vials and filters, the lights dimmed again. As they came back on, the second set of electrical calipers began arcing with energy, turning the vapors a dark blue. At the end of the refining process a dark blue liquid slowly dripping into a large jar. The deadly residue vapor continued to pour into the room, the small fan on one wall furiously worked to vent the cloud outside, barely keeping up.

Meanwhile, the clock kept ticking. By the time Miles replaced the canisters two more times several glass containers were full of the precious dark blue fuel additive.

Dr. Conterez sighed as they started cooling down the vats. Slowly the room began to clear of the vapors as the production ended. "Enough for one day. We need more chemicals to produce more."

"As well as recharge the canisters," Mayhem said.

He reached for one of the few remaining and connected a secondary air hose from his suit before disconnecting from the group of canisters that had supported them while working. Dr. Conterez fumbled with his canister, and Miles finally took it from him and connected him up properly. He handed him his canister and then handed him another full one. "Take this one, I'll get the other. We don't want the filled getting mixed up with the spent."

Mayhem took the last of the full canisters while Dr. Conterez opened the door. After closing the door of the room behind them Miles took Dr. Conterez’s arm, “We need to go outside first.”

“With our suits?” Dr. Conterez froze as they exited one of the side doors.

The guard stationed next to it lay unmoving on the ground. All across the compound a similar scene played out. A soft blue haze hovered heavy in the air and into the trees of the forest beyond. Despite the limited hearing through the suit helmet, the silence was unnerving. No sound from anyone, no talking, no music. Even the birds were silent. Only the low rumble of several generators could be heard in the distance.

Dr. Conterez looked back at the building they’d just exited in horror. "No, we could not have produced so much vapor! And we were downwind!"

"No, we did not produce so much,” Miles agreed, “But with the help of the generators both here and at the airstrip it quickly accumulated."

Dr. Conterez turned at him, stuttering, "What have you done, Mayhem? When he returns, he will order the death of my family for this!"

"He will not return," Miles said, looking back at him calmly. He pulled Dr. Conterez towards the end of the compound, "Ah, I see a vehicle that will fit our needs."

He strode confidently into the vehicle area. A black 4-wheel drive sat in the front, the driver nearby with a can of alcohol in one hand and a set of keys in the other. Grabbing the keys, Miles lifted up the two canisters into the vehicle to rest between the seats. Noting that the fuel tank was full, he climbed in.

Dr. Conterez opened up the passenger door and then paused, "And what do you mean to do, Mayhem?"

"Your fear of this group was once warranted, Doctor, but no longer. You and I should talk about the future. A good future with the dignity and money one of your expertise deserves. We'll have plenty of time while we drive out of the valley."

Dr. Conterez reluctantly climbed in, his canisters joining Miles. By the time the winding road took them to the rim of the valley, Dr. Conterez had relaxed. Miles also relaxed, pleased with their agreement.

With one last steep climb they came to the summit of the road. He brought the vehicle to a top next to another black vehicle. He disconnected himself from the canisters and then climbed out while taking off the environmental suits hood. Dagger stood leaning up against the jeep near the front wheels, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

Miles looked out over the valley below them. A murky blue haze drifted above the treetops as the sun began to set across the water, filling the sky with vibrant colors. Nothing moved as far as the eye could see.

"Anyone missing?" Miles asked as he shed the rest of the suit.

"Nope, made sure everyone knew of the big mandatory meeting taking place," Dagger said with a slow drawl.

Miles turned back to the truck. "Dr. Conterez, the truck is yours. I will contact you later."

Dr. Conterez nodded, climbing over the canisters into the driver’s seat. A moment later the vehicle took off down the road heading towards the nearby port city.

Dagger watched him go, "Did it work?"

"Very well. The compound is done, and the generators still running will make sure anyone arriving in the next 24 hours will die immediately. Just in case there are any stragglers," Miles balled up the suit and stuffed it into the back of the vehicle while Dagger climbed into the driver’s seat. "What of our other project?"

"Barry says it went off without a hitch. Took out the entire group. So, what now?" Dagger started the engine and shifted the gears.

"No business is safe except crime, which can easily adjust to the times and new areas of wealth. Now we go make our money without any interference. New weapons, new vehicles, new technologies for our use. Thanks to that fool, I now have the all the contacts I need to shake the world."

"Evil, Mayhem."

Miles suddenly smiled, and then gave a short laugh. "Evil? Hah, I like that. Is the plane waiting?"

"Yes sir, we'll be there in an hour."

Miles looked back across the water before it disappeared from view. The jeep began winding its way down the other side of the valley rim in the same direction Dr. Conterez had driven. Oh yes, things would be much different this time. He would make sure no one ever had the jump on him again, in any way. It was time for a new group of people.

***

The police car rolled in a spectacular display of fire, shredded metal, dirt and grass. Someone at the research facility must have gotten off a warning before all communications were cut. Major Brachili would have to think about how that might have happened, to prevent it on a future strike.

The last one.

Not that they’d been any match for Major Brachili’s new fleet of vehicles. The police vehicles just couldn’t keep up and had resorted to trying to block them from the front. He felt a keen sense of pride and satisfaction. For all his grand-standing, Miles Mayhem had achieved the impossible; brought the vehicle construction back on-time and improved their firepower.

Major Brachili looked up from the controls of the laser turret stationed in the rear of the vehicle, safe in the knowledge that for the moment all pursuing vehicles had been taken care of. More were sure to show up when they crossed the state line. In the corner of the display of his Mask, which still registered some of the targeting information from the turret, the energy readings read almost zero.

He would have to get with Mayhem on that. Barely used while infiltrating the building and in their escape and the batteries were already depleted. To make it worse, the vehicle charging apparatus recharged the Masks at a much too slow rate to make the Mask useful in a long skirmish.

However, all in all, the mission had been a success. The technology could be built upon and perfected for the next operation.

He reached down to reposition the valuable briefcase between his legs. No matter what, no matter how sure he was that the other treasures stolen would be well-taken care of, he would not let it out of his sight.

He lifted his head to look at the targeting display when he noticed  blue smoke filtering out of the air-conditioning vent. A noxious odor filtered into the mask, burning at the lining in his nose and throat.

The vehicle swerved to the edge of the road, slamming him into the center console. As the tires caught the soft soil at the edge of the pavement, the vehicle was yanked into the ditch in a shower of dirt and debris. The seatbelt dug into the Major’s shoulders as they came to an abrupt halt. The driver slumped over the steering wheel, not even twitching to the Major’s demands of an explanation.

The smell of burning fuel, smoke and rotten trash filled the cab, choking and searing his lungs. Air, he needed air. Major Brachili yanked off the seatbelt and grabbed the door handle.

The door wouldn’t budge.

He pounded on it, pain flashing up his arm at the force. Through the limited view of his mask he saw the co-driver stopped struggling with his door and instead collapsed against it, as unmoving as the driver.

Blue smoke continued to condense in the cab. The smoke. The smoke itself was dangerous!

With the last small charge in his Mask, Major Brachili fired the Mask laser at the passenger-side window. The glass exploded into a dangerously sharp cloud, grazing his bare hands as he threw out the briefcase and then clawed himself out of the vehicle. The jagged metal of the window frame cut at him further.

He dropped to the ground and crawled away, coughing furiously despite the filters in his Mask. Toxic smoke continued to billow out of the vehicle as the engine softly purred as if nothing were wrong.

As his eyes cleared a little, he found the other vehicles ahead, all in the ditch or having rolled a distance off the road. From one billowed flames along with the deadly smoke. Only from two of the vehicles did anyone stir, and only from those who’d worn the Masks.

One was brave enough to shut down the vehicle and raise the hood. Major Brachili crawled towards the vehicle. Another survivor reached up for his Mask and Major Brachili shouted, “Don’t take off your Masks! The smoke is toxic!”

“It’s the new converter.” He recognized the voice of Bigeson as the one looking under the hood. “Must be something wrong with it.”

The Major’s Mask picked up the sound of helicopters. With shear will-power, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling the rest of the way to the vehicle. No, he wouldn’t give up so easily, not after accomplishing so much.  “Can you get it working without killing us?”

Bigeson yanked at the engine, his fist coming up with a piece of metal and trailing tubes. “We’re restricted to the normal engine and fuel. But it should work.”

“We’re leaving!” The Major announced to anyone who could still hear.

Six people of varying physical condition crowded into the large black SUV, Bigeson at the wheel. Major Brachili dropped the briefcase in the foot-well of the passenger side, keeping the window rolled down despite the near freezing weather outside. He coughed violently, doubling over as pain ripped through his lungs and stomach.

“We won’t be able to outrun anyone without the additive boost.” Bigeson warned between his own coughs.

He would kill Mayhem for this. A design flaw such as this could not have slipped through his oversight. He was positive it had been purposefully planned.

A white border-patrol helicopter appeared over the road in front of them, slowly settled down to the pavement. A man in the side-door aimed an automatic rifle at their vehicle, firing several shots. Several of them bounced from the armor plating of the hood, another taking out one of the side mirrors.

“I have it!” One of the men in the backseat shouted.

A flash of light from the laser turret in the grill caught the helicopter broadside. In an explosion of flames, it crashed into the brush on the side of the road. Their vehicle raced past.

The day was quickly unraveling. No doubt, reinforcements would soon be on the way, especially if the Border Patrol had been given permission to open fire. “Head for the border.”

Bigeson glanced over at him, “We have a plane waiting…”

“I’m sure our little traitor took care of that, as well.” Major Brachili barked out.

Bigeson muttered under his breath. The vehicle slowed and then turned south on a rough dirt road. As another coughing fit racked his body, he tried to clear his head to recall what plan this would be. Plan D or E? Or had it been even further down than that? As the SUV roared over a sand dune, he tried to visualize it his planning sheets.

The trip would have been exhausting anyhow, but for men who were perpetually wracked with violent coughs it turned into sheer torture. One of the men in the back stopped moving a short time after a particularly bad bout.

A squadron of black helicopters appeared over the horizon just as they crossed the border into Mexico. One small victory in a day turning into a disaster.

The engine of the vehicle purred along smoothly, no black smoke in appearance. What had Mayhem done to the new design? The Major took the time for the rest of the journey to plan out his torture.

Bigeson slowed down slightly as they reached better roads, moving farther and further away from the border. Surely by now, the US authorities had alerted the Mexican authorities. By the Majors estimation, word should filter down to the locals in several hours time. At which point they would do nothing, just as the Major had planned.

Unless that plan had also been sabotaged.

“Turn east,” Major Brachili ordered as they came to a wider road.

“Sir?” Bigeson asked, slowing the vehicle down. “We will be expected…”

“Yes, expected,” Major Brachili interrupted. The power in the Mask completely died, disabling even the internal display. He pulled off the Mask, breathing in the air streaming in through the window. “We can’t assume any plan is now safe. We’re heading to see an old friend instead.”

Bigeson yanked off his own mask as he turned east, throwing it to the console between their seats. He wiped away the sweat dripping from his face, blinking his eyes quickly to keep them clear.

Major Brachili rested his head against the back of the seat, letting it slip to the side to lean against the door frame. Too weary to move, he let the air blow against his face. Bigeson managed to drive the entire way without stopping, a feat the Major promised to reward him for later.

The large fuel tanks on the vehicle edged towards empty as tint of salty smell entered the air, the air growing noticeably warmer and more humid.

Gated posts of the estate came into view. A deep breath of the salty air brought on another coughing seizure, this time accompanied with a splattering of blood. The level of silence from the back of the vehicle told him they arrived just in time.

Two guards with automatic weapons aimed at them stood in front of the gate. The Major leaned out the window, shouting in Spanish, “Major Brachili to see Mr. Carlos Bedlow. I have a standing invitation.”

It took several more minutes and shouting with a strength that left Major Brachili shaking before the gates were finally opened. A jeep with a machine gun turret pulled up behind them and followed them down the winding dirt path that led into rear of the estate.

The reason for the delays became clear as they pulled into one of the side courtyards at the edge of the luxury compound. Carlos Bedlow stood on a covered veranda, surrounded by guards. Eyes peered out in quick snatches from some of the windows, only to disappear again into the house.

Bigeson brought the vehicle to a stop near the veranda, shutting down the engine. The Major slowly opened the door and swung himself out. He caught himself, grasping the metal frame of the vehicle to keep from falling. With sheer determination, he found his feet. The other doors opened, his men quietly following.

He kept a hand on the vehicle as he made his way to the front, keeping a smile on his face only with shear willpower. “Good day! Sorry for the interruption.”

Mr. Bedlow regarded him with a fake smile of his own. “I was not expecting a visit to my vacation home.”

The Major willed himself not to cough, trying to stand up as straight as he could as a hand remained on the warm hood of the vehicle. “We had problems.”

“Yes, I know. The US military is now in contact with Mexican authorities. Seems they are quite concerned about what you may be taken,” Mr. Bedlow said, glancing back at the other men trying to get out of the vehicle. “Your friends in the Mexican government won’t be able to help you this time.”

“We will soon be gone. I have a ship waiting,” Major Brachili said, trying to recall which of his friends may be available at the nearby shipping port. “But I must wait for tonight. My men and I will not bother you while we wait.”

“Were you successful in your raid?”

The Major struggled to suppress another cough, but wasn’t distracted enough to notice something. He responded slowly, mindful of the briefcase in the vehicle, “No, not for what we went for, but we did find other useful information that we transmitted to our base. In another few months, I believe we can do more business with each other. I think you’ll be very interested in our offerings.”

Mr. Bedlow smiled with a glee that disturbed the Major. He also found it disturbing that none of the guards had yet lowered their weapons. “My open invitation to use my villa did not include using it as a staging ground for your strikes. Nor do I wish to deal with one who has made enemies with so many of my good clients.”

Major Brachili blinked. “What?”

“The ICN no longer wishes to deal with you. They have a new technology supplier.” Mr. Bedlow said. He stepped back towards the house, saying louder, “Do not destroy the vehicle, I want what is inside.”

Mr. Bedlow disappeared into the house. The Major had just enough time to yell a short string of obscenities before the sound of automatic fire drowned out his last words.

***

Matt didn’t like not being in the loop. His efforts to track down the United Freedom Front were suddenly leading to dead ends, no matter how many favors he called in. A group that active couldn’t just disappear, no matter how small they might still be.

An old friend from New Mexico calling him to shoot the breeze was the break he had been looking for. Moments after the call ended he was on the phone to Duane Kennedy.

“Someone used simple mask technology down near the border two weeks ago.” Matt said as an introduction.

Duane sighed into the phone, “Should I even ask how you found out?”

“Several police vehicles were totaled in the chase plus a border patrol helicopter. State and federal personnel were injured and killed. Do you really think it’s that much of a secret?” Matt played with a pen while waiting for Duane’s delayed response.

“We have it taken care of, the group was neutralized.”

“Did you retrieve the mask technology? When will they go on trial?”

“Sorry, all of that is confidential information.” Duane immediately responded.

The call ended soon after. Matt spent the rest of the day working off the frustration in the work-out room and then working into the early morning hours on the project.

***

Dagger laughed softly to himself. Miles ignored him, studying the designs. “We are on time?”

The man on the other side of the table smiled genially, “It will be ready, Miles. You design, I build.”

Miles studied the designs one last time before nodding his head, “Keep me updated. I look forward to your first delivery.”

As soon as they were out the door, he muttered, “And what was the laugh for?”

Dagger nodded his head back at the nondescript warehouse. “Them. As soon as they knew they would only be dealing with you, how fast they were to please.”

“Yes, a little reputation can be a useful thing.”

“A difference. The United Freedom Front had a reputation, but only for being trigger-happy at the slightest provocation, threats and not paying well. You bring money and with that comes the respect.”

“Money makes the world go round. And it’s about time we gathered a little ourselves.” Miles stepped into the passenger side of the SUV while Dagger slipped behind the wheel. “And the others?”

“You were right. Tony Hunt and the others loyal to the Major were out on the raid. All of them haven’t been seen or heard from since. Rupert, Gordon and Diego are on-board.”

“Our core. Good. Time to head back and start training. I want to be ready the moment the vehicles are ready.”

***

All things considering, Matt didn’t view it as over-kill when he gave out a general Trakker Industries order for all research and development sites to clamp down even tighter on security. Some of the managers immediately complained as they were already annoyed and tired of the previous security lock-down, but Matt knew. It would only be a matter of time.

A week later the caution paid off. A group of masked invaders hit a vehicle development building. The high-powered prototypes had been locked away inside a new titanium encasement. The damage to the building as the invaders tried to pierce the protected room had been severe, but the building had been safely evacuated, and the data and prototypes adequately protected. A response by the nearby National Guard helped the police repel them. No arrests were made, but at least no lives had been lost.

Then came a voice he hadn’t heard in years.

“Good grief, is this Buddy?” Matt asked in disbelief

The voice on the other side of the line laughed softly, “No lectures about going on the straight and narrow. I needed to ask you something.”

“So long as it’s not to help with any, um, target.”

“No. Have you ever heard of the United Freedom Front?”

Matt froze, his eyes fixating on the steam rising from his coffee, his hand clamping down on the receiver. “Please tell me you aren’t involved…”

“No way! But, I just heard something interesting. They’d taken over a valley about fifty miles from here. Now the military is involved with some project in the valley, and it isn’t a fight. We’re seeing body bags taken off one helicopter after another. Looks like the whole group might have been wiped out.”

Matt’s mind flew to all his reports, all of the sudden dead ends. “All of them?”

“Between here and something that happened just south of the US border, my sources say. The military has been quite pleased to have another trouble-making group taken out. Matt, they found some technology out there.” The line crackled for a moment, distorting the last few words.

Matt didn’t need to ask him to repeat it. He rubbed his forehead, another headache building. “Let me guess, some that belongs to one of my companies.”

“Yours and several others. You might want to contact the government down here to get it back, if they’re willing to release it. Just thought you would like to know about your lost merchandise.”

“Thanks for the tip, I appreciate it. Anything else interesting going on?”

“Nope, that’s it. Hah, a whole phone call, and not one lecture.”

“Buddy, does your mother know what you do?”

Buddy laughed and ended the connection.

As it turned out, getting an agreement from the government for a return of what technology they found, provided Trakker Industries paid for the transport, was the only part that went well.

Matt’s efforts to alert the PNA and the police department to the new development didn’t go near as well as he hoped. Duane’s bosses still didn’t see the threat. On top of that, the police detectives used the new evidence as a way to close the case on the attack.

Even after attending the inquest, his lawyers presenting Matt’s case, they still closed it. The conclusion: the United Freedom Front had been responsible for the deaths. The group was now destroyed by means unknown. Case shut.

Miles Mayhems name cleared.

Needing to keep it together for Scott’s sake was the only thing that kept him going. Every moment Scott spent in school he was in with the masks, testing them, figuring out how they worked, planning new designs. At night and on the weekend, Scott became accustomed to where Matt could be found, setting up one corner where he could play with his toys or do his homework.

He worked himself to the bone, falling into bed each night exhausted. Waking each morning wondering if this would be the day Mayhem would attack someone else. Someone unable to defend themselves.


	5. First Contact

A blanket of snow outside muffled all sound, creating a feeling of nocturnal content. Scott slept, Ms. Simmons having long since left for home. The house should be peaceful, but not for Matt.

Another long night of frustration loomed ahead. A pile of crystal shards filled a special waste bucket, the proof of several failed trials that night alone. Matt added to the pile of failure with another dustbin of broken crystals.

"I'm just about ready for the next go-around. When are they going to get to the game scores?" Alex carefully fitted a crystal into the path of the recharging beam.

Matt returned to the mainframe as it booted up while Alex placed one of the mask battery packs under the crystal and locked it into place just as the sports announcer came on. Closing the lid of the clear protective case, he sat down at the computer for the final adjustments while keeping an eye on the small television sitting on a corner of the workbench.

"Rugby isn't a very popular sport in the US, Alex," Matt said with amusement over the sound of the TV announcer’s voice.

"Your loss," Alex said as the crystal moved a little to the right as the computer took over the final minute adjustments.

Matt typed in a new command and waited for the mainframe to respond. A moment later the same annoying error greeted him. Both he and Alex had been after it for days, and still it wouldn’t work. Not a good thing, considering the system was supposed to help coordinate the masks and provide part of the processing power. Perhaps it was time to dig up the identities of who’d worked with Emily on the system and see if any were still alive.

The television image changed from a baseball image back to the tall blond sports announcer, “And now, for you international sports fans, the scores are in from England, and we’ve seen quite an upset.”

"About bloody time," Alex muttered as he straightened up.

"Light rain at the beginning of the… wait… what?" the announcer faltered, looking off to someone off-camera.

The camera angle suddenly switched back to the anchorman. "We break with a live report. A group of masked men are in the process of attacking several buildings in downtown Denver. First reports are of an armed conflict with Denver police. We now go to our on-the-ground camera crew."

The image on the television again changed, showing a middle-aged man in a tan trench coat, with the collar pulled all the way up his neck. The cold snowy winter air blew through his hair as he moved in front of the camera, half turned forward it as he walked, "This is Roger Smith, on the scene. Two police vehicles have been rendered useless… good lord, there's another one! Keep the camera going!"

Matt stopped his work and came to stand behind Alex. The camera zoomed in to look at a police car. White snow softly filtered down on it, only to instantly melt. The red and white lights on top continued to blink, but the left corner of the vehicle looked as though it had melted. Metal, bumper, tire and all.

Matt whispered the words, "The acid prototype."

"Central Bank could be one of the possible objectives in this area, as tomorrow the paychecks of many military bases coincide with several large businesses in the area. The businesses along Jewelry Row could be another potential target. At this point it is all conjecture until someone can get closer to them. Hugh, see if you can get a shot around the corner of the building. The police have cordoned off the area and all buildings within are in lock-down. They have asked that everyone stay away from the area and are encouraging nearby buildings to evacuate. However, the police clearly do not have that situation under control. As you can see, most of their vehicles are now useless."

"The police won't stand a chance against that mask. The acid can eat through tank armor," Alex said with disgust.

“Mayhem might be after the bank, but I can think of two research facilities in the vicinity that might be a bigger attraction.” Matt said turning to the energizer, his stomach in a knot of frustration. He’s always known it would be just a matter of time, and now here it was. Only, they weren’t ready, despite all the work. Matt muted the television, "Try the beam again, Alex."

Alex sighed and then keyed up the computer. The sound of the energizer powering up filled the room. A second later a bright yellow light shot out of the energizer array and down into the crystal. For a moment, the crystal glowed and pulsed.

With a deafening bang the crystal exploded, the shards hitting the protective plexiglass safety shield with small thuds and pings.

Alex sighed, shaking his head. "We just don't have the right crystal. I know we are on the right track, but who knows how long it will take to create one. Don’t suppose you have another one ready?"

Matt blinked, his mind suddenly racing. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The shape, color, purity, all of it was similar!

Without a word, he shot of out of the room. Running down the hall, he skidded to a stop in front of the door of the library. The door banged against the wall in his haste to get inside. Matt grabbed a small wood and metal display case from off the shelf and rushed back to the room.

Matt pushed tools out of the way as he set it out on the workbench. As he began loosening the screws along the base, Alex studied it. "Isn't that the crystal your Father was given..."

"It is. And it's nearly flawless."

Alex looked back at the recharging unit, and then shrugged, "If you're willing to risk it, I'll set up for another test."

Alex cleaned up the mess from the shattered crystal and reset the system while Matt removed the top of the display case. The crystal felt cool to the touch as he lifted it off its pedestal.

One of his Father’s priceless treasures, and he was about to risk it.

His eyes glance at the muted television. One of the camera crews showed an image from an upper window in a nearby building. Through the snow could be seen a street littered with disabled vehicles, police and swat teams trying to move slowly forward, only to duck and cover at repeated blasts of plasma laser fire. At that pace, Mayhems gang could take all the time it wanted and be off on their way.

He handed the crystal to Alex and watched him position it.

"Please work," Matt nearly prayed.

"Here goes nothing," Alex said, closing the cover and retreating the computer.

A few taps and he stood up, both men watching the energizer closely as the hum filled the room.

The energy beam flashed down into the crystal in one solid pulse. The crystal pulsed yellow and white, and then grew even brighter. Matt held himself rigid, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

A bright flash of light burst out of the crystal and down into the battery unit. The battery unit glowed briefly with the same colors. Slowly the colors faded until both were dark.

In the silence afterwards Matt and Alex looked at each other. The next second they were moving: Alex to the computer, where he looked at the readouts and Matt to the charging unit itself.

"I'm seeing a perfect spike!" Alex whooped.

Matt attached two leads to the battery and then read off the readings, "We have a full charge!"

"Now if it the charge will only remain for more than a few uses," Alex said as he studied the computer screen.

"We’ll have to risk it. I'll install this battery. Set up another go and see if it will work on another."

By the time Matt attached the battery unit into the back of a gray and white mask, the crystal had survived one more charging session.

“Now to nail Mayhem,” Matt said with a bitter smile.

"How are we going to get there, Matt?" Alex asked simply as he brought the other battery to the workbench. “The roads are snowy, the area cordoned off. Denver isn’t exactly just around the corner by car.”

Matt froze. Then he gritted his teeth to keep from saying something he knew he would regret. With Scott ever curious to know what his father was up to, he didn't want to slip up only to find Scott behind him and teach Scott a brand-new word.

"The only way we'll get into the city heart at this point is by air. That means helicopter," Matt said.

In ten minutes Ms. Simpson was on her way back to the house to stay the night. Alex loaded the masks into the helicopter now kept ready inside the small hanger past the tennis courts.

Matt joined him the moment Ms. Simpson walked through the door. With the helicopter pulled out to the pad, Matt climbed in and started powering up the systems.

"Not a pleasant bit of weather. The ceiling is 1300 feet and falling," Alex quipped as he strapped himself in.

With the rotors winding up Matt waited until he slipped on the headset to answer, "We'll have to give Mayhem a good scolding about the weather he chooses to pull a heist in."

The small helicopter slowly lifted up from the ground. A gust of wind hit them as they cleared the trees, forcing Matt to compensate. Increasing their altitude he turned the nose towards Denver, pushing the craft to its top speed.

When they reached the outskirts of Denver the ceiling lowered another 500 feet. Wisps of clouds and sheets of snow streaked past them. With forward visibility becoming worse, Matt turned his attention straight down, locked onto one of the major highways entering the city. The transponder was shut down, and he kept the radio tuned into flight control but didn’t announce himself, as he heard other crafts being diverted from the city. If he kept in the clouds but low enough to be under radar, no one need know they were even in the vicinity.

Alex tuned the other radio into the police channel. “Mayhem hit the bank, an alarm from a vault just sounded.”

“Let’s hope he takes his time carrying the money out. We're getting close. There's the Boulevard," Matt said, quickly pointing.

"Any idea where we’re going to land?"

"The Trakker Westwind Electronics building. I can't think of any building closer with a landing pad and the only place I won’t be questioned," Matt said.

"Still some blocks away," Alex warned.

The helicopter fish-tailed in a gust of wind. Matt quickly adjusted, keeping the little craft on course. "We don't have a choice. This bird can't land just anywhere in this kind of wind. The streets are too narrow."

It took two tries before Matt solidly landed the helicopter on the landing pad on top of the tall Trakker Westwind building. A startled security guard rushed out to greet them as the rotors wound down.

"Sir? What are you doing flying in a night like this?"

Matt jumped out of the helicopter and then reached back for one of the boxes. "An emergency. See that she’s strapped down tight. The wind is forecasted to get worse."

"Yes Sir!"

Matt ripped off his sheepskin coat as he climbed out of the cockpit. The elevator moved devastatingly slow to the lobby. He dropped the coat off in a back room and grabbed a long white lab coat. Alex followed his example.

“They’ll still be a way off,” Alex warned as he followed Matt’s example.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Matt took the mask out of the box and tucked it to his side, the bulk of it making the lab coat flare out at his hip.

Exiting the building, they began running towards the center of the business district.  Turning down the main road leading into the heart Matt could already see flashing lights further down the road.

The flashing lights briefly eclipsed. The lights then violently moved to the side to be replaced by strong bright white headlights. As the headlights grew steadily brighter, hulking black forms began to materialize around them.

"By Jove, they're coming straight at us!" Alex exclaimed as they came to a sliding stop on the icy sidewalk.

Matt brought the mask out of from under the coat and placed it on his head. The display inside compensated for the low-light conditions, making the streets appear as if in full daylight. "Let them come. It's payback time.”

He waited until they cleared a row of decorated lampposts. The mask targeting system locked onto the lead vehicle of the three bearing down at them at almost reckless speed.

“Spectrum, fire!"

Matt felt the energy course through his mask on all sides of his head. The images in front of him warped and waved in the display as the mask emitted a pulse of energy.

The front windows of the lead vehicle shattered. The vehicle skidded, catching a patch of ice. It swerved to the other side of the street, smashing into a storefront. An explosion of glass flew over the hood and top of the black vehicle.

Laser fire erupted from the next vehicle. Matt and Alex hit the ground, the laser fire hitting the building behind them. The vehicle shot by them and then skidded into a turn to come back at them as the other took a position on the other side to continue the blanket of fire.

"The vehicles themselves are armed!" Alex rolled himself up from the icy sidewalk and into the dubious shelter of a sidewalk mailbox, "Rather unsporting."

"And the driver is looking to end our careers before we’ve even begun!" Matt quipped as they dove out of the way again.

The mailbox exploded into a cloud of metal fragments, Alex moving away at the last moment. In his haste to move his feet slipped out from under him, slamming down onto the ice.

And the vehicle driving towards him didn't slow down.

Matt found himself taking cover as the driver of the crashed vehicle recovered enough to pull a pocket sidearm and fired at him. Pinned down from two directions behind a low rock decorative wall, Matt watched helplessly as the vehicle came down on Alex.

Why wasn’t Alex moving? Matt poked his head up and fired the Spectrum lasers at the vehicle, but the shot went wide. "Alex, move!"

Still Alex stayed still, kneeling on the ice on one knee, watching the vehicle bear down on him. In desperation Matt lunged forward over the wall. A shower of laser fire greeted him. Matt flung himself back behind the rock wall, chips of rock and concrete peppering his body.

"Jackrabbit, on!"

The edges of Alex’s mask lit up, cycling in a rotating pattern. The next moment Alex sprang into the air, up and over the hood of the vehicle as it ran over the place Alex had just been. The driver in the vehicle looked up at Alex's floating body instinctively. The driver looked down again just in time to see the corner of a brick building fill his vision.

Matt came up to a crouch, returning fire with the one remaining operational vehicle as it took aim at Alex. He managed to knock out the front window and one of the headlights.

“Viper, on!”

Matt’s blood froze. A vice clamped down round his ribs, pushing him backwards against the building. The rocks of his former hiding place sizzled and steamed, quickly dissolving away in a wash of red fluid.

“Sorry about that, old boy!” Alex shouted, as they both ducked again, retreating along the building.

No mistaking the broad shoulders and slight paunch of Miles Mayhem as he rounded the back of the crashed vehicle, firing at them again as he headed for the crashed vehicle.

"Don't scare me like that again!" Matt said angrily.

“Only had one chance to make it work,” Alex said, as unfazed as normal.

Glass from a store display melted, setting off the store alarm, making Matt thankful for the noise dampers of the masks. But better night vision, they needed that, as the last street lamp in the near vicinity was taken out.

“How much acid can that mask hold?” Alex asked as they retreated around the corner of the building.

“Wouldn’t matter. We don’t know how much he used before this.” Matt said.

A horrified scream echoed through the street, making Matt’s blood run cold.

He ducked down as his appearance resulted in the one remaining vehicle to fire on him. The vehicle began moving forward towards the second crashed vehicle.

It was near the crashed vehicle that Matt pinpointed the scream.

Mayhem pranced around the sidewalk and edge of the road, slipping and sliding on the ice and snow. A small stream of red fluid flowed out from the nozzle in the top center of the mask. Mayhem grasped the edges of the mask, trying to pull it off his head. The mask finally came free. Mayhem threw it away from him.

The mask exploded in a cloud of red acid that had Mayhem frantically running away from. Right into the path of the one remaining working vehicle.

Mayhem bounced off the edge of the light. A hulking man from the passenger side rushed out, grabbed him, and helped him into the back of the vehicle.

Matt and Alex ducked, weapons fire from the upper turret hitting the outer concrete facing of the building they’d taken shelter behind. The vehicle revved its engine before racing past them. Matt tried to fire another pulse at the fleeing vehicle, but it did nothing more than make the vehicle fishtail on the road as it sped away. Red tail lights faded in the snow as the vehicle increased its speed before taking a screeching turn down a side street.

They stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Alex looked at the two crashed vehicles and the damage to the surrounding buildings. "Not the perfect rout."

"One vehicle out of three. Not bad, considering we were on foot," Matt added, noting the mangled front end of the vehicle sticking out of the next building. A man groggily fell out of one of the doors, and then lay still in the snow.

Matt walked up to the remains of the viper mask. Only a few pieces remained intact, including the acid reservoir. A small black case nearby caught his eye.

Matt reached down and picked it up. He instantly recognized the company emblem stamped into the side of the metal. He looked down the street where Miles Mayhem had escaped. He’d been right, Mayhem had been after battery technology. A short distance away several computer discs lay scattered in the snow. “Looks like we were a successful in keeping him away from a new level of technology. Less for him to sell on the black-market.”

"Matt, I still have a strong charge."

Matt stopped. He quickly looked down in the lower left-hand corner of his display. Not trusting the icon, he brought up the detailed menu. The power level held steady at 80 percent.

Matt started grinning, "We did it, old man. We did it!"

"My mask is also now picking up sirens,” Alex said, looking down the street, “It may be time to make a hasty retreat."

With a sigh, Matt agreed. He looked back at the slowly moving bodies in the two crashed vehicles. One lifted his head to show a cracked front visor. That mask would be out of commission. Time to let the police do their job. He dropped the case back into the snow, rubbing his gloves clean of snow.

Within fifteen minutes they were back at the Trakker Westwind building, their masks hid under the removed lab coats.

Once they were in Matt's private office, Matt poured both of them a stiff drink.

"All in all, that could have gone much worse. Better, yes, but much worse," Alex said as they toasted each other.

"Yes, Jackrabbit could have failed at the last moment and you could now be roadkill," Matt said as he collapsed into his chair. "If we’re going to do this again, we have to fix the transportation problem. We might have been able to stop Mayhem’s escape.”

"Considering that Mayhem is making up for his masks limitations by designing vehicles with weapons, I would say we have a bigger problem than just transportation. The vehicles need to be an extension of the masks themselves," Alex suggested. He took another sip of his drink.

"But we have the power packs and charging system. Mayhem doesn’t," Matt said with a grin as he looked up at the holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles.

"One big obstacle to the program solved," Alex agreed.

Matt jumped when the phone on his desk rang. He read the caller ID, the big ‘private’ in the lower part of the screen telling him the call was coming through his private encrypted business line. He glanced at Alex for a moment before slowly picking it up.

"Hello?"

A second later Matt clicked on the speaker phone. Alex raised an eyebrow at the voice that filled the room.

"...knew it had to be you the moment the description came through. You're the only other one I know who has access to that kind of technology," came Duane Kennedy's voice.

"With Mayhem, I doubt that will remain the case for long," Matt automatically said.

"And you somehow survived."

"Mayhem wasn't going to stop just because the PNA doesn't view him as a threat. By the way, we believe he might have been injured in the conflict," Matt said. “One vehicle out of the three did escape.”

"I'll have the hospitals checked. You are insane."

"Are you calling to put me under arrest, Duane? Or just to chastise?" Matt asked simply.

Duane muttered something to himself before saying, "I'll be in Denver on Thursday and we'll talk. In the meantime, stay out of trouble."

The phone connection clicked off, and Matt raised an eyebrow at Alex.

"For those in the know, it wasn't a hard assumption to make," Alex admitted.

"Fortunately for us tonight, those that are in the know I can count on one hand, thanks to all the murders. Until this settles out, Alex, it might be best if you not associate with me."

Alex scowled at him. "I don't accept that. I’m in this of my own freewill. Now that we have an energizer that works, I'll start fine-tuning the masks. There are a lot of improvements we can easily make. Mayhem could strike at anytime, we best be ready for it."

"Do you hear what you are saying?"

"That I'm ready to stand up and fight? I didn't survive the war only to see everything I fought for be destroyed by a money and power hungry imbecile like Mayhem. When he strikes again, I intend to be ready," Alex said with dead seriousness. "What is your intention?"

Matt glanced out the large plate glass window at the snow falling, the glow from the streetlamps below filtering up to create the sensation of a snowy cocoon. "I think I made my decision the moment I asked Ms. Malcomb to collect the mask prototypes."

"Then it's settled. My assistant will continue looking after my shop while we work. This is more important."

Matt looked at Alex's reflection in the glass to find him looking back at him in the same reflection. "Then it sounds like we have some serious planning to do."

***

Miles lay in agony, each breath a painful exercise. Pain radiated out from his ribs to spike through his body. An arm and a leg hung from a pulley system over the bed, pillows on all sides supporting him and keeping him still. An IV stand held three different bags, each dripping slowly into tube that led to his one good arm. Despite the drugs, the pain continued to rip through him.

If he tried hard, he could dredge up the partial memory of Dagger dragging him into the vehicle. The plane ride that surely followed remained a complete blank. His fevered eyes looked up at the ceiling of the simple room.

A nurse with dark hair bustled in, quickly checked him over, and then bustled out. From the hallway filtered a language he felt too tired to translate.

But, another part of his mind continued to work furiously. The masks, the vehicles. They could be so much more. Somewhere from the snatches of recent memories he knew most of his team were gone, arrested.

He needed new people. People with real skills and the ability to use their brains, not just ambitious thugs off the street.

And then he would get his true revenge.

***

"Thank you for meeting with me," Duane Kennedy said as Matt led the way to his home office.

"It's good to see you. You don't come out this way very often. Are you sure you wouldn't like to go out to dinner?" Matt swept a few of Scott’s toys off the couch, putting them on a corner of his desk.

"No, I have another meeting tonight that will most likely last into the night. Besides, what we have to talk about is rather, well, sensitive. Knowing you, this office will be secure."

Duane settled on the couch, setting his briefcase down at his feet. Matt poured them both a cup of coffee before settling himself in one of the nearby armchairs. Duane took one sip of the coffee before looking over at Matt as sternly as any father about to reprimand a child. "You took a big gamble out there."

"And what will be the repercussions?" Matt asked, doing his best not to tense up.

Duane looked around the room while considering his words, "For the moment, nothing.”

Matt let his shoulders relax, a movement immediately caught by Duane who frowned.

“Do you know how easily it could have gone a different way?”

Matt rested the coffee cup on his knee, “It could have gone badly in many ways.”

Duane sighed and shook his head, “With the support of my superiors we have let it slip out that the group that confronted the attackers was affiliated with the PNA."

Matt leaned back in the chair with relief. “I hear the bank wasn’t the only target, unlike what has been reported in the news.”

“No, HTC Industries were also hit. A very precise hit, blueprints to a new battery technology which were later recovered from the crash scene. They won’t say exactly what design.”

Matt had to work hard not to smile. In the week the crystal continued to charge the battery packs, showing no sign of stress. At least they were ahead of Mayhem in one area.

Duane took another sip of coffee before chuckling to himself, "A few minutes into the attack, the state Governor was on the phone to Washington demanding a full military response. I believe the words "Oh, you sent someone" were heard just before he hung up. That's when my department was called with a demand to explain. You should know that good chunk of the stolen money was never recovered. Too bad you weren’t able to get all of them.”

Matt relaxed a little more. So far so good on the prospect of no arrest, “We were a little outnumbered and without proper vehicles."

"Yes, I know. After the mess Mayhem left behind the local authorities were calmed only by the news that someone had the technology to stand up to the attackers." Duane sat back, one hand tapping at the arm of the couch and looked at Matt. "You probably are already aware that Mayhem couldn't be found in any hospital in the region. However, we do know he's alive. And we learned of something new. A few weeks before the attack Mayhem made a deal with the ICN."

Matt sat straight up in his chair as Duane continued, "From what little we know, it's a simple arrangement. The ICN buys special technology from him and they don’t interfere with his activities for first chance at purchase. They have also granted him refuge in any of the affiliated countries."

"Giving technology to the exact same governments that are already a threat to us," Matt bit out.

"More than that. Mayhem has also agreed to 'listen' to any proposals the ICN might make for future activities. In other words, Mayhem has been given a yes/no privilege of participation on future ICN military maneuvers. This mostly likely means Mayhem would have access to all their military hardware."

"If there is a drop of money in it to be made, he'll agree to the project," Matt muttered.

"That is exactly what we believe, as well."

"How did you find this out? The ICN has been very tight-lipped after they were forced into a peace agreement," Matt asked.

"Mayhem is hard at work building his own organization. A few weeks ago he approached one of our undercover agents with an offer of hire."

"A person would be a fool to work with him," Matt said.

Duane adjusted his glasses before taking a drink of coffee, "Honestly, Matt, I don't think Miles will have any trouble recruiting. This world is in the midst of an economic slump."

"We've had slumps before. This one will pass, as well."

"It's difficult to make a living, even if you are well-educated, hardworking and honest. Many people are disillusioned. For some, it's easier not to even try. Why not walk the easy path?"

Matt gave himself a self-depreciating smile. "Emily said that for all my big heart, sometimes I just thought 'rich'. I have a feeling you are heading towards something specific with all this?"

Duane nodded, "With his power source problem Mayhems masks are too limited to do a tremendous amount of damage. However, we both know him. He has grand ambitions. He now has contacts resources, and thanks to the bank heist, a starting payroll. It won’t be long before he is a major threat to large communities, and possibly even countries. You saw he is now adapting vehicles with weaponry. You know, as I do, that with his resources the balance of firepower will tip drastically in his favor."

"I would say it changed today. And with all the contacts he has around the world, it's unlikely traditional PNA law enforcement can affect that capture," Matt summarized.

"Exactly. I'm also running into a problem from within the PNA as to the exact level of threat Mayhem poses. Since he is not actively working for the ICN, but only an outside affiliate, he is viewed as a pest. A pest causing some banks and research firms with ineffective security to lose money, but nothing that threatens national or planetary interests. I could not convince my superiors to put together a specific PNA team to deal with him. Right now, all the focus is on the ICN itself. Law enforcement is pretty much on their own. But, they did agree that perhaps having some group, somewhere, watching him that could also respond to rising crisis would be a good idea."

"Somewhere? As in, not the PNA itself?"

"Limited PNA liability and risk. If something goes wrong, no one loses their career." Matt snorted, and Duane smiled wanly before continuing, "If the threat is real, the PNA gets credit for being pro-active. What can I say, politics is a dirty business."

"And this is where I come in?"

"You have the perfect cover with the Trakker Foundation and world-wide business interests. Mayhem would never suspect you with the lifestyle you have led, or will continue to live as a businessman." Mentally Matt bristled at part of the comment, even though he knew it was true. Duane continued, "But I know you have the experience and resources for something like this. I would be your contact within the PNA. I can bring you intelligence, you can investigate.  Not being apart of the PNA would have advantages. No one sitting at a desk making the big decisions for you. Anonymity, able to move freely, no one looking over your shoulder. Developing the team, the specific technology, leading it, that would be all up to you."

"Including financing, I'm sure."

"It was the best I could do. If you can make it happen, the PNA has pledged its full support, including liaisoning with government, police and military forces around the world and running interference against legal and civil property damage. All I'm asking is that you think about it." Duane fished a big file out of his briefcase and handed it to Matt, "Here is information that might help you make a decision, including an idea for a base. I found a very interesting location on a piece of property you now own."

"Boulder Mountain? Wait, I know this place."

"Your father had it bricked up when a few too many kids thought it would make a nice hide-out," Duane said, trying not to smile.

Matt grinned, "Yeah, I was always getting into stuff I shouldn't. This was a really neat cave. Several chambers, old doors that would seal them off."

"Built in the Cold War as a shelter and storage area for the military. Your Father later bought the property to protect the habitat of the mountain goats that prefer the area. A piece of lost history. Not a bad place for a possible base."

Matt looked up from flipping through the file to Duane, who was again adjusting the glasses on his nose. "Give me a few days to think about it."

Duane smiled in a way that told Matt that Duane was already sure of his answer, "Sure, no problem. Call me by secure line as soon as you can."


	6. The Project

Bruce looked through the file, his suit jacket folded over the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up. Only a few days after settling into his new home, and already Bruce had become a regular fixture around the mansion. He nodded at the map with the location of the cave pinpointed. "I'm looking forward to seeing the place. Considering the vehicles I am thinking of, it would need to be big enough to hold a well-designed garage."

Matt laid out another set of plans on the table, showing a quick sketch of possible uses, along with new measurements, "I’ve brought Peter Kwon on board to design the new base. Some of the caverns are huge, more than big enough to hold many vehicles and the accompanying equipment. There used to be an old gas station outside of it that has been boarded up for years. It might be time to open it again."

"As a front?" Bruce asked as he studied the new drawings, nodding with approvement.

"There are several lakes and parks in the area that are becoming popular tourist attractions. A new campground is going in this area this coming summer, and the road has recently been improved.” Matt pointed out the areas on the larger area map. He stopped to grin, “Isn't illusion the ultimate weapon? Let people believe the reason people come and go is for legitimate reasons."

Alex turned from the computer mainframe, "We'll need a data line, or a satellite link for the computer. Is there a smaller room for the computer hardware?"

"You can have your pick of several," Bruce said as he continued to study the plans. “Peter Kwon? How did you get him?”

“Miles Mayhem was instrumental in his fathers disgrace back in the war. Then came the fighter crash, after Mayhem played games with the part requisitions.”

Alex shook his head, “The crash should never have happened.”

Matt looked at the back table where six masks sat looking back at them, "I was thinking, there were several designs that were passed over in the project because of their huge power draws. Now that we have the power situation solved with the charging crystal, perhaps we should look at them again."

"I think that would be a jolly good idea. The more variety we have the more versatile we could be in reacting to particular situations," Alex said with a nod. "Speaking of which, any new news on the scoundrel?"

"Only that Miles is holding tight, recovering and designing in an unknown location. I think it's time we did the same. Who knows how long we have before he pokes his head out of whatever hole he's hiding in," Matt said,, straightening up as Bruce  leafed through the maps again.

Alex yawned, "The thought of what is to come makes me tired just thinking about it. I wonder if I should just sell the shop?"

"The wise farmer sows his seed wide to reap a bountiful harvest," Bruce said as he studied one of the new sketches.

Alex rolled his eyes. "A translation, please?"

"We need to find other people for this project, just like Mayhem is doing," Matt said with a smile, "And finding the right people with the right skills in the right personal situations will be difficult. "

"Indeed. Able to stop and take off for a mission, physical and mental aptitude. It mmight be impossible for anyone with an immediate family," Alex mused.

"I'm thinking of a good solid group. Not just a few to whom all of the pressure rests on their shoulders." Matt motioned to the mainframe where Emily's program currently resided, "For each mission the computer helps identify the agents needed according to location, skills and weapon experience. Mayhem is building a network of support and skills. We need to do the same."

Alex looked back at the mainframe, "Then we best find a programmer. I can program the security module to whatever we need, but the logic parameters are something else."

"What does this mean? Venom?" Bruce interrupted, reading the latest intelligence report from Duane Kennedy.

Alex rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, "Venom: Vicious Evil Network of Mayhem. Mayhem always did have a sick sense of humor, I dare say. Which brings to mind, any idea of what to call your new team, Matt?"

Matt pulled a folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to him.

Unfolding it, Alex found a sheet filled with words, doodles and phrases, with one circled at the bottom. Alex smiled and gave a soft chuckle. Bruce looked up at him as his smile turned into a grin.

Alex then read out, "Mobile Armored Strike Kommand: M.A.S.K.


End file.
